The Fortress of Denliath
by LadyAureliana
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is a Cretan noblewoman with many secrets, and Roy Mustang is a master-at-arms enjoying a simpler life. Trouble, however, pays little mind to station. The King of Drachma threatens the relative peace enjoyed by the region, searching for a treasure that could throw the world into chaos, and only a select few can put an end to his tyranny. Royai.
1. The Stone Rose

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I hope life is good :) I'm very excited about this story, but it has given me one _hell_ of a time. It started out as something completely different before morphing into this and a second story that I am working on as well. Just a few notes for this one:  
1\. We're going back in time, and I'm using some place names from the FMA universe but making up the rest. (Also, no alchemy but...you'll see.)  
2\. Similar to my last story, the Hawkeye father-daughter relationship is not canon (but I think we'll be returning to something closer to canon for the next one).  
3\. I will do my best to post regularly, and will try to warn you if I ever know that the next chapter might take a while.  
I apologize for any errors ahead of time. I generally do multiple read-throughs and editing sessions before posting, but I know I miss things. Hopefully I haven't missed too many! And feedback is always welcome!  
That said, thank you for checking out my story and I hope you like the first chapter! :)

* * *

 **The Stone Rose**

Roy Mustang massaged the crick in his neck, taking a swig of whiskey in hopes of fighting the damp chill that had invaded him to the bone during the night. He lazily kicked a burnt log in the fire that had long since died out and stood to stretch, moving toward the stream to splash cool water on his face, the activity loosening his stiff muscles. Already more alert, he glanced around at the lightening sky as he paced toward his horse, taking some salted beef from his pack to sate his grumbling stomach. The rest of his group were waking each other and, with a gesture, he sent their tracker, Kain Fuery, off to determine the exact direction in which they would travel.

His small team had been tracking bandits for over a week, following them from Lochstone Castle in Creta to their current camp in a clearing well past the Amestrian border. The criminals had begun their spree by robbing a village near the MacMillan's stronghold, then one near Lochstone before leaving the country. The thieves wore the colors and crest of Lord Bristow of Eastern Amestris, though there appeared to be no allegiance to that nobleman, a fact which was certainly peculiar. For a short while the group traveled astonishingly slowly, periodically crossing the border between the two countries for seemingly no reason. In addition, they were extremely careful to conceal their presence, which increased Roy's wariness of their intentions exponentially.

Filling his canteen, he appraised the dreary sky, heralding the rain they would likely encounter in the near future. The scent of leaves and pine pervaded the area, and the stillness surrounding them would have been immensely peaceful under different circumstances. The light crunching of pine needles reached his ears, and he turned to find Lord Maes Hughes of Lochstone approaching him, still only partially awake. With a respectful nod he greeted, "Good morning, my lord."

"Morning, Mustang." His employer tilted his head, evidently trying to crack his neck after a night spent on the unforgiving ground. The man was slim with wiry limbs and stood two inches taller than Roy, a fact he thoroughly enjoyed pointing out. They had met during the Aerugonian conflict and, despite Hughes being several years his senior, their friendship had grown quickly. "Did you notice anything during the night?"

"All was quiet. I already sent Fuery to check their progress." He ran a stream-dampened hand through his black hair, hoping to impose some semblance of order on his likely chaotic appearance.

Hughes nodded. "Good. We should move soon. If we're fortunate, they've not doubled back and discovered our position."

"I scouted on my watch. There were no tracks but our own near camp." He slipped on his jacket and checked his horse's gear. "Might I inquire as to the change in date of your pending matrimony?"

"I am entirely ignorant of the cause," the other man chuckled. "My fiancée's father wrote asking if I would be amenable to having the ceremony earlier. He mentioned something about traveling out of the country, but I have a feeling he has other motivations."

"And that doesn't concern you?"

"It does, but not about the lady herself. I have heard from many sources, your mother included, that a kinder, more lovely woman does not exist." Hughes smiled thoughtfully when he spoke of his future wife, and then switched to a joking tone. "You dare question the wisdom of the great and powerful men of the Cretan nobility?"

Roy chuckled and gave a slightly exaggerated bow. "I wouldn't dream of it, my lord. I simply do as commanded."

"Here I thought you were the one that gave the orders, Captain," grumbled one of his soldiers, Heymans Breda, as he strolled to join them, eyelids still heavy with sleep.

"Right you are, soldier," he replied, handing the water pouch to the newcomer. "However, we all take orders from someone, and soon Lord Hughes will be taking orders from Lady Hughes."

Maes watched him for a second before shaking his head in defeat. "Alas, I cannot dispute that."

"Of course not. You've been obsessed ever since they sent you that miniature painting of her."

"Well, if you would just look at her..."

"Hughes, if you mention her 'angelic face' once more I will stab myself," Roy interjected. Laughter broke out in the small group, but his his smile fell away when he heard barely audible footsteps approaching their position. His hand reached for the pommel of his sword, relaxing a moment later when Fuery slipped through the trees and into the glade. The tracker took the water offered to him and said, "Lord Hughes, Captain Mustang...there's something you should see."

They shared a guarded look and readied themselves, securing blankets to tack, stowing food away, and gathering their weapons. Leaving the horses for the time being, the men quietly made their way through the woods, senses alert and carefully tuned to their surroundings. There was a sudden, loud crack nearby and he froze for a second, placing a hand on Hughes arm to stop his progress, but he could discern no movement nearby. With a nod he indicated that it had been a false alarm and the pair continued, each with a hand cautiously hovering over a hilt.

When they emerged from the woods into another clearing, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. Five soldiers bearing the Hakuro family's colors and coat of arms lay dead on the ground, unceremoniously slaughtered. All swords were sheathed save one man's, indicating that they were the victims of a surprise attack. Most of the men were within the vicinity of a bed roll, and may have even been sleeping when set upon. The black remnants of a fire sat in the middle of the site, and blood soaked the ground around it.

"Breda...take a look ahead. Make sure they kept moving," he ordered, recalling the snapping twig he'd heard minutes before and hoping they'd not walked into a trap. He strode through the camp, examining anything left that might give them some clue as to the true identity of the 'bandits.' The bodies appeared to have been untouched, even by wildlife, but their belongings were strewn about, as if their attackers were searching for something. After making a circuit of the small clearing he knelt next to Fuery, who held out a charred item he'd pulled from the ashes of the fire. It was a type of hexagonal patch normally seen on a foot soldier's uniform, burnt nearly beyond recognition, but he could just make out the coat of arms. "The Armstrong family..." he muttered, perplexed. "This is making less and less sense."

Hughes joined them and took the patch. "This would theoretically lend support to the idea this is who we're hunting." He shook his head. "But Armstrong and Hakuro are long-time allies, and I know them both well. They wouldn't endanger the peace in this way."

"I don't think they are," Roy replied, reclaiming the cloth and indicating the edge. "Look how cleanly cut this was...I'd say it was planted."

"I apologize, milord," Fuery softly said as he glanced around. "I woke last night feeling unsettled...I should have said something. Perhaps we could have saved them, but there was a terrible storm in the mountains and I thought the sensation stemmed from that." The young man was an ecological empath, which enhanced his already keen abilities as a tracker and also meant that he was one of the rare gifted. He could communicate and connect, in a manner of speaking, with plant life and could thus feel the general well-being of the area around him.

"Fuery, this was not your fault. We could not have predicted this attack," Hughes said, crouching next to him.

The tracker simply nodded, placing a hand over the center of the fire pit. "They've apparently been blocking me somehow...it could only mean they have a seer or another ecopath." As he spoke a tiny green tendril sprouted from beneath the ashes and he slowly lifted his hand, the fledgling plant growing and morphing as he did, with delicate leaves and thorns shooting out from various gnarled branches until five white roses suddenly bloomed.

Roy had seen Fuery perform such a feat many a time, yet it still amazed him to some extent. It seemed the growth of an organism in mere minutes should be impossible, but he had spent enough time among the gifted to know much was possible. Though healers, ecopaths, and seers were the most common, gifts ranged widely in strength and complexity. There were those that boasted straightforward talents such as increased strength or agility. On the other end of the spectrum, he had once heard of a man that could somehow influence peoples minds and actions with the food he prepared. He was not envious, but part of him had always wondered how his life might have been different were he gifted. Rather than continue in that line of thought, he said, "With your permission, my lord, I would like to provide these men with a proper burial."

"Of course, Mustang. It will set us back, but I cannot leave them here to be feasted upon by scavengers."

Looking into the trees near where his other soldier disappeared he commented, "Where in hell is Breda? I told him to take a look, not..." He cocked his head to the side when he heard what he thought sounded like the clash of metal not far off. Sharing a look with the other mean, he led the way out of the clearing, drawing the single-edged, slightly curved sword strapped to his back.

After a short run they neared the bank of a stream, where Breda was surrounded by the seven bandits they had been tracking, and he mentally kicked himself for sending the soldier alone. As one of the thieves spun to meet them with an upward slash, Roy blocked and used his cross guard to force the other blade away while drawing a knife and plunging it into the man's neck. Pulling his blade free, he turned to fend off another attack coming from his left, parrying and spinning around him to slash his back open. He hazarded a quick look around the clearing and whipped a knife toward one of Hughes's attackers, where it buried itself to the slim hilt in his skull.

The majority of the bandits already lay on the ground, and the last thief kicked Fuery back into a tree trunk before sprinting away. He was about to give chase, but the tracker signaled that there was an unknown entity nearby, so he collected his blades and moved to stand next to his employer. "Are you alright, Hughes?"

The other man nodded. "Any idea what we're dealing with, Fuery?"

"Approximately five more men...their intentions don't feel hostile." His expression was relieved. "We must have killed the bandits' gifted. I can read again."

He could hear the individuals moving through the undergrowth, and then a tall, burly man with black hair appeared followed by his soldiers. A long braid fell over one shoulder, he wore armor that only covered his right arm, and his face bore a wide grin. "Lord Hughes," he greeted, inclining his head respectfully to the nobleman before him. "This is interesting."

"Buccaneer. I remember you from my last visit to Vei Ellyn." Maes gestured to his right. "This is Roy Mustang, my master-at-arms"

"A pleasure, Buccaneer." Roy extended his hand and they gripped forearms in a military-style greeting. "Call me Captain...everyone does."

"Very well, Captain." An expression of amusement and curiosity overtook the man's features. "How did the Lord of Lochstone and his master-at-arms manage to escape with a marriage in the near future? I assumed all would be focused on preparations."

Hughes chuckled. "The answer is simple. My best man knew I'd need a decent bandit-hunt before my stronghold is practically invaded."

Buccaneer gestured behind with a hand. "Forgive me, my lord, but what do you know of my dead comrades back there?"

"Only that the culprits were these unknown men." Hughes gave a small wave toward the men lying prone nearby. "They're disguised as members of Bristow's army, and attempted to frame Lord Armstrong for the attack on your soldiers. Not to mention that they had robbed several wealthy families in two different towns before we caught up with them." Turning his attention to the tracker he asked, "Where is the man that escaped?"

Fuery crouched, placing a hand on the ground, and briefly closed his eyes. "Not far. He is wounded, and has stopped to rest near a stream just a half-mile from here."

"It would seem his guard is down...he thinks we are no longer at his heels." Roy bent, wiping his blades off on an enemy tunic. "Seems to me like the perfect time to follow."

"Indeed it does." Hughes grinned. "Buccaneer...if you approach from the north, we'll circle around and come up from the south."

The Hakuran nodded. "Of course, my lord." Turning to his men he added, "Acton, Garrick...you're with me. The rest head back to make camp and bury our men."

Buccaneer's soldiers moved away as ordered and Roy broke into a jog, heading south in the direction indicated by Fuery. Maes fell into step beside him, with Breda and the tracker following as closely as possible through the trees. The sun broke momentarily through the clouds, shards of light finding the dim forest floor while a light drizzle fell around them. All remained quiet, and they kept their footfalls silent, not wishing to warn their quarry that he would shortly be surrounded.

Passing the stream at a distance after mere minutes, they continued south before gradually turning to run north along the water's edge. When Fuery signaled they were close he slowed, catching his breath as the group crept toward the bandit's position. Each silently drew their weapons, hiding behind trees to watch the bandit's attempts to bind his wounds. The tracker pointed out Buccaneer's location across from them and, on Hughes' mark, both groups stepped out. The thief spun, clutching his upper arm, blood trickling from between his fingers, looking erratically to either side as he searched for an escape route. The stranger turned to run across the watercourse, but Breda awaited him on the other side, knocking him out with the pommel of his long-sword. He slumped to the ground and Fuery lowered his bow, moving to help his comrade bind the prisoner's hands.

"That was easier than I expected," Buccaneer chuckled, throwing the man over one shoulder as if he weighed nothing and striding away.

The rest followed at a leisurely pace, heading north, and Fuery matched Hughes' pace before somewhat shyly asking, "Do we plan to reach the Rose this evening, my lord?"

"Hoping to get a glimpse of Sheska? Subtle, Kain." Breda guffawed, nudging the younger man with an elbow. "For what it's worth, I could certainly be persuaded. It's Thursday, which means Izumi is preparing something with fresh-caught fish for dinner."

"You have the menu memorized?" Roy asked, amused.

"Yes. I know many useful things, Captain. For instance, we are twenty miles south of the nearest Drachman garrison."

"That is useful, but it does not count. We _all_ keep track of where that crazy bastard King Anton has troops." He paused, with a slight smirk. "And...it's actually twenty- _one_."

" _Very well_ ….I also know that 'wild tomatoes' in Amestris are poisonous, the best time to hunt in southern Creta is at dusk, and in Kyrnath, that country east of Xing, it is seen as a sign of leadership to be born with a crooked nose."

"I, for one, am not convinced of the usefulness of these facts. Though I do find it interesting that two were about food," Hughes chuckled. "And in answer to your question, Fuery, given the way the day has transpired, I plan to rest at the Rose tonight before returning to Lochstone."

The tracker tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile as they again entered the clearing that had served as their camp for the night, where they saw Buccaneer in the process of securing the prisoner to a tree. "Breda, start a fire," Roy quietly ordered, moving to his horse to remove a couple additional knives from the saddle bags.

At Hughes' direction, Fuery filled a bladder with water and dumped it over the thief's head, at which point he awoke sputtering, eyes jumping frantically from one man to the next. Maes stood a short distance away, idly sharpening a dagger. "Why are you here?"

"What is the meaning of this, my lord?" the man asked. "Are you not allies with my master Lord Bristow?"

"We are indeed, but you're not Lord Bristow's man. And so I ask again...why are you here? You robbed a town under my protection, and another under Lord MacMillan's. We are not pleased."

"I assure you, my lord, this is simply a misunderstanding." The stranger informed them. "Lord Bristow sent us out here to meet with a small delegation of Lord Armstrong's men. They attacked us, we defended ourselves, that is all."

"And your reason for attacking my soldier? He certainly didn't provoke you."

"We were caught unawares, my lord...we reacted instinctively."

"Yes, you must have been caught unawares..." Roy chuckled, standing next to his friend. "...when you surrounded him with your weapons at the ready."

"You would do well to start telling me the truth," Maes continued. "I know you are not in the employ of Lord Bristow, and I know you attacked Lord Armstrong's men in the dead of night. It was a slaughter. Now, _why_ are you here?"

"I've already told you, my lord." The prisoner did his best to sound sincere. "We were sent to meet an envoy...nothing more."

Hughes gave a small nod and Roy spoke, shifting closer to the fire. "Did you, by chance, fight in the Aerugonian conflict?" He slid the blade of a knife into the hot coals, glancing up to gauge the bandit's reaction and determining that the man had been involved in that war. "I fought for the Cretans, as you might imagine, and my main occupation was to gather information." He added a second knife and continued, "I actually had a moniker you might have heard...the Aerugonians called me Il Rogo." The prisoner's eyes widened, but only a fraction as he attempted to mask his response.

"I always rather liked that appellation of yours, Cap," Breda commented from a few feet away, casually eating an apple as he watched. "It means fire, or blaze, correct?"

"Yes, depending on the context." He removed one of the now glowing blades from the fire and stood before their guest, whose gaze flicked multiple times from him, to the knife, and back. "Between us, I was never terribly fond of the nickname...but it is memorable."

"And intimidating, Captain," Fuery added.

"I suppose. It's inaccurate, however, as I don't use fire directly for these purposes. I've simply found that extreme heat can be an excellent motivator when properly applied. Though I prefer greater precision." He sliced the man's shirt open, placing the heated metal near his skin, and the soldier flinched, breathing rapidly. "I will ask only once more... _why_ are you here?"

* * *

The inn was located in the Western Region of Amestris, near where the Cretan, Amestrian, and Drachman borders converged. Set back from the road, it was surrounded by towering trees, with well-tended flower beds lining the front of the building. Across the garden behind it could be found the stables, and beyond that ran a stream with crystal clear waters. Lanterns glowed from the front porch, with candles in the windows shining through the darkness to welcome any traveler. It was a stone-walled edifice that rose three stories, smoke billowing cheerfully from its several chimneys. The porch overhang jutted out from the wall and from that dangled a plaque heralding the establishment as The Stone Rose. A few horses belonging to local patrons were tied out front, and the sun's last rays were little more than an amber glow above the trees.

They directed the horses down the twisting lane, lined on either side by forest, leaves fluttering with the occasional swish of a fox running through the brush. Their mounts' hooves crunched rhythmically on the trail and he smiled at the sight of The Rose up ahead. He'd already caught the scent of what was sure to be a delicious meal, and looked forward to relaxing before a roaring fire after so many days of travel.

He dismounted and led his mare through the stables, glancing at various stalls as he passed them. He slowed, rubbing her neck to show his appreciation for having carried him safely and speaking softly to calm her. "Be a good girl tonight, Mercedes." She snorted as if in reply and he grabbed his saddle bags, tossing a coin to the stable boy and saying, "Take care of her, Jackson."

The boy grinned as he caught the currency. "Of course...thank you, Captain Mustang."

Roy chuckled as Hughes tossed another few coins to the boy and, when his friend caught up to him, said, "You spoil that child rotten."

"You have no room to talk." Maes shrugged. "We don't have many children at Lochstone for everyone to spoil."

"Fuery here's only seventeen...he's still basically a child," Breda teased.

"And yet I am more mature than you."

"You cannot argue with him there," Roy commented with a grin.

"On the contrary, Cap, I certainly could. But I _maturely_ choose not to."

They stepped up onto the porch and were greeted by a wall of a man with legs the size of tree trunks and arms as large as the tracker's head. His long black hair was tied back from his angular face, and he stood with a hand on a dagger sheathed at his side. Sig Curtis was the owner and operator of the inn, which had been in business for the majority of two centuries, and his booming voice was as intimidating as his appearance. "Good evening, my lords. Welcome back to The Rose."

"Mister Curtis," Hughes said, shaking the innkeeper's hand. "Do you have room for us this evening?"

"Of course, my lord. We will have your usual accommodations prepared, and I do believe dinner is nearly ready."

"Thank you, Curtis." Roy gave him a nod as he walked through the door, where they were almost immediately met by Sheska, a young Drachman woman with mousy-brown hair and spectacles that were likely of Xingese invention. She had become like a daughter to the Curtis', taken in by them years ago when her entire family was killed by King Anton's men after having been discovered trading with Amestrians.

She smiled, blushing slightly when she caught sight of Fuery, and said, "Good evening, my lords. Your rooms will be ready shortly, and Jacob will take your things upstairs. Dinner will be served in a few minutes, and I'll have drinks brought to your table." Sheska waved another man over while she spoke, who took their bags so they might rest in the warm common room, ablaze with light from the fireplaces at either end. A bar ran along one side of the room, and the rest of the space was filled with tables, the majority of which were packed with happy customers.

The group filled the seats around the table, taking advantage of the ale once it was delivered, and Breda wasted no time in his usual ribbing of their tracker when he noticed who his eyes followed. "Do you plan to spend another night staring at her?" He raised his tankard for a long, grateful drink. "Or perhaps you'd like to finally speak to her?"

Fuery looked at him with displeasure, cheeks reddening. "I don't _stare_. I simply...admire. Quietly and from afar. Some would call that respectful."

"Yes. And others might call that _disturbing_."

It was not long before their meals arrived, and the remainder of the evening was spent in similar conversation, with Breda pestering Fuery while Roy and Hughes hurled good-natured insults back on behalf on their younger comrade. Though he was enjoying himself, as the evening progressed he felt mildly distracted, discreetly glancing at the door each time it opened. Customers continued to arrive periodically, and at times a small group would return from a routine scouting trip, a precaution given their proximity to the Drachman border. Eventually, local patrons began to leave and guests started to trickle away, climbing the stairs to the cozy and clean rooms above.

His companions bid him goodnight before leaving the common area and he asked for a whiskey, moving to a seat closer to the fire. He was not yet ready to retire, and was still processing the information they'd gleaned from the bandit. He would have liked to take the man back to Lochstone in order to have another opportunity to speak with him, but Lord Hakuro's stronghold was closer, making it the more logical choice. He only hoped they could learn more from the prisoner.

He heard someone approach, and then a chair was pushed next to his and Sig asked, "Mind if I join you, Mustang?"

"Please do."

He sat with a sigh, bourbon in one hand and a pipe in the other. "On your way home, I presume?"

"Yes, fortunately. We were tracking a group of thieves for a week and a half….finally caught up to them several miles from here."

"It takes much less than two weeks to travel from Lochstone to The Rose." Sig chuckled. "I imagine they took a circuitous route."

"Extremely. On the bright side, we captured one. It turns out they were mercenaries based in Aerugo, hired by some Amestrian noble...but that is all he could tell us. He had no names, and only knew that they were ordered to rob several towns between the MacMillan's castle in Creta and the Voyles in Western Amestris." He paused, shaking his head in thought. "It's as if their only purpose was to stir up trouble. However, it is unclear precisely who that would benefit, or whether the intent is to cause widespread instability, or conflict localized between a few specific lords."

Sig took a drink, exhaling heavily. "There have also been scattered reports of mercenaries in parts of Northern Amestris."

"Do you know who hired them?" Roy asked, staring into the flames.

"No one has been able to question one, so we are none of us certain. But I thought you should know."

"Have you had any problems here? Anymore visits from Drachman soldiers?"

"Not recently. My wife is yet quite infamous among them so they give us a wide berth." Izumi Curtis was a legend, having participated in each of the major conflicts between Drachma and Amestris that had occurred during her lifetime. The Drachman troops were especially wary of her due to one particular occurrence toward the end of the first war. King Anton had inherited the Drachman throne from his father shortly before and decided to test the new resources at his disposal by attempting to invade Northern Amestris. The story went that Izumi, trapped behind enemy lines for a week in the winter, single-handedly decimated a unit of sixty men to make good her escape.

He held up his glass and smiled. "May they continue to do so." The two men drank to the toast and he added, "If they venture this way, contact me. I'm sure Lord Hughes will send any assistance he can."

"I appreciate the offer, though I hope we never need to take you up on it." He drained his glass and took a long drag on his pipe before standing slowly. "Goodnight, Mustang."

"Goodnight, Curtis." Roy returned to his ruminations and continued to gaze into the fire. He would retire soon, and they would need to rise early in order to reach Lochstone at a decent time the next day. There was much to be done: send out more scouts, locate any mercenaries in their lands, fortify the villages near the castle, send missives to their allies. The thought of hired soldiers on the move was sobering, even more-so considering that Creta was still recovering from it's border war with Aerugo which ended four years ago. They could not afford another.

"Your father is not your father."

The gravelly voice pulled him rather abruptly from his thoughts, and he found an old seer had taken the seat vacated by Sig. Her eyes were red, white wisps of hair fell erratically around her face, and her skin was weather-worn and wrinkled. He had seen her at the Rose every so often; one of those seers that made a living reading the palms and futures of any willing patron. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your father is not your father."

His brow furrowed, and he placed two aspers in her outstretched hand. He never thought much about the man, hardly remembered him, though his mother said he had his father's straight nose, sable hair, and dark, mischievous eyes. "I am not sure to what you refer, madame." He watched her for several seconds. "And my mother?"

"I cannot see her at the moment, and thus I cannot say, nor can I tell you the identity of your real father." Tucking the coins into a small purse she took his hand, her eyes turning completely gray, the color seeping out of the iris and swirling like the clouds in a thunderhead. She ran a long nail along the lines of his palm, slowly, and his skin crawled as it raked over every imperfection and wrinkle. "There is fire and love and greatness in you, my lord, but I also see a capacity for rage, and violence." She took a deep breath and her eyes returned to their usual eerie state, exhaling slowly with an accompanying nod, as if having decided something. "The marked one will find you, and then you will begin."

He sighed with frustration, this vague doublespeak being his main motivation for never letting a seer read him. "Begin what?"

"I cannot say." She paused, head tilting slightly. "But I can show you how to identify them." The old woman placed two fingers in the center of his forehead and he felt a mild jolt, an image appearing in his mind. It was a wall built of stones of varying sizes and the edges were faded, as if he were only seeing a portion of the whole. In the center was an iron gate, intricately wrought and set into an archway, but whatever lay beyond was indistinguishable. Everything was in shades of gray, and then a single white rose bloomed in the middle of the gate, dark vines unfurling to either side and twisting around iron bars like snakes. Little more than an instant later the image vanished, and he was left with a strange feeling in his chest, as though he'd seen that rose before. "That is all I have to show you, my lord."

Roy took his hand back and emptied his glass of what whiskey remained. "Thank you, madame." With that farewell he stood and strode directly to the stairs, climbing to the third floor and finding his room. Once inside he locked the door and leaned against it, lost in thought for several seconds, brow still drawn together after the odd exchange.

Shutting the window to keep out the night's chill he undressed, slipping into the bath to wash away the dirt and grime from two weeks in the wilderness. Closing his eyes he let the heat soothe muscles sore from riding, his body seeming to slowly melt under it's influence. All the while he pondered the woman's words, wondering who the 'marked one' might be, why they'd want to find him, and what would then begin. Her other declarations were just as unnerving. The seer's statement about his father was impossible, but it clawed at him nonetheless, as did that odd sense of familiarity he felt each time he pictured the gate with the rose and vines. The skeptic in him wanted to write it off as useless information designed to keep him interested or elicit more money, and he half wished he could dismiss the woman as a con artist but, based on what she'd shown him, she was not without talent.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day!

P.S. Hermitcrab, just in case you read this, I saw your reviews for the final chapters of Trickster/Lionheart and I just wanted to say thank you :)


	2. The Gift of Death

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello! I hope everyone is having a great day, and I'd like to thank all who read, followed, favorited, or reviewed the first chapter. The support is greatly appreciated! (Also, responses to guest reviews can be found at the end of this post.) And now on to the second chapter! I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

 **The Gift of Death**

Riza Hawkeye moved silently through the trees, the forest around her a chorus of crickets, rustling leaves, creaking limbs and the infrequent scurry of nocturnal animals. The moon above was bright, out-shining many of the stars that might have normally dotted the skies and providing excellent visibility on her unorthodox late-evening hunt. The air carried on the wind was refreshingly cool and, just as it picked up, a reindeer stepped into her field of vision, female judging by the antlers. With a little smile she raised her arm and drew back the string of the bow cradled in her left hand, letting the arrow's fletching tickle her cheek as she exhaled slowly. She was just about to loose when a loud crack resounded through the woods and her target scampered away.

The frustrated sigh of an opportunity lost left her and her weapon started to drift downward, but at the muffled sound of a step she spun to her left, raising it once more. Hardly a second later her maternal grandfather, Walter Grumman, appeared from behind a tree with his hands up. His hazel eyes were tired, but his stride was quick and agile, belying his age and the fatigue they all likely felt. He gave her one of his kind smiles by way of greeting as he let his hands fall. "Just me, my dear."

She returned the friendly grin, lowering the bow and swiping blonde bangs from her eyes. "Anything in the traps?"

"Afraid not," he replied, falling into step beside her.

"It's been almost too quiet. That was the first reindeer I've seen, and this area is generally full of them."

He nodded. "I was thinking that as well. It seems something has scared off the wildlife."

Riza mused on that unsettling notion as they continued east, the roar of rushing water growing louder until they eventually strode out of the forest, coming to a stop at the edge of the Vaal Plat. It was a moderately sized tributary whose waters ran southeast, in the direction of the capital of Amestris' Western Region and, if she remembered correctly, the name meant 'River of Silver' in an old tongue native to the area. Icy water ran over gray rocks, white foam forming in places, and not far away a sturdy stone bridge spanned the torrent.

"I've found nothing," Maria Ross informed them, tying black hair back from her face and joining them to take a moment's rest. Riza had known the seer for years, since long before the Aerugonian Conflict, and the woman had come to be one of her closest and most trustworthy friends. "And I know we would have had to do our butchering in the field, but I was hoping for venison."

"There _is_ something about Drachman venison." She dropped into a crouch, examining the grass at her feet and determining that not a blade was out of place before she started toward the bridge and the little used forest road that led to it. The region in which they found themselves was thickly wooded, the land largely uninhabited due to the sharp hills and rocky crags that made farming difficult and also happened to form a natural boundary that ran along the actual Cretan-Drachman border. A shared mistrust between the people of both countries provided additional dissuasion from settling there, the only presence being distantly placed military outposts. All this meant that wary wanderers could cross between the two nations unnoticed, and she wondered if such travelers had frightened away local game. "Maria?"

The brunette's eyes closed briefly, and then she shook her head. "I feel no one close."

With that assurance they strolled out into the open, and Riza's eyes widened as soon as she caught sight of the eastern shore of the river. The ground had been trampled by countless hooves and boots, the impressions far too muddled to make an accurate conclusion of number. Clumps of grass had been torn out completely in some places, and there were hack marks in the neighboring trees where bored men had idly swung their weapons. Her grandfather gave a laconic chuckle when he saw the muddied trail. "This bodes well."

"This could certainly explain the absence of wildlife," the seer added.

"Indeed..." Stooping once more, she pried free a small piece of silver that had become embedded in the dirt, wiping one side clean with her thumb before tossing it to Grumman. "They could follow the river directly into Western Amestris and no one would be the wiser."

"A Drachman tetra...recently minted," he commented, idly tossing the coin as he walked to the bridge. "I'll bring the horses."

"Alright," she absentmindedly replied, following the tracks a bit further to see what other objects may have been left behind.

"A tetra trampled into the ground doesn't mean this was Drachmans," came Maria's attempt at reassurance. When Riza caught her eye the other woman added, "I know. I didn't convince myself either."

Her exhalation was somewhat tense. "I'd like to follow this trail for a little while. Even if we don't find anyone we'll have to warn the Armstrongs. Darabane is only twenty miles southwest of here, give or take."

They were not made to wait much longer as her grandfather quickly returned, the horses having been tied only a short distance back. "Hello there, Maximilien," she quietly greeted her gelding. Taking the reigns, she rubbed his neck, smiling when the blue roan shook out his mane and gently inspected her palm with his muzzle. Running her hands along the tack, she made sure it was not overly snug and climbed into the saddle, the horse shifting on his hooves in anticipation.

"Do pass the food, old man," Maria teasingly requested when they set off to the south, catching the pack he tossed with a grin. "I doubt I've been so hungry in my life."

"I believe you might be prone to hyperbole, young lady."

"I maintain that it's not an exaggeration if it's true," the brunette rejoined, taking a large bite of cured beef before continuing cheerfully. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but we've been traipsing through the forest all day. A girl cannot survive on only the occasional wild mushroom."

"For Xerxes' sake stop complaining," her grandfather chuckled.

"I daresay it cannot be considered complaining, as she says it with so much joy." Riza smirked.

"Joy? Our dear Maria shows nearly as much emotion as a knapsack."

"I _beg_ to differ. I display the perfect amount of emotion...you are simply too oblivious to notice."

"Must you two always bicker?" Riza smiled in amusement, looking for any footprints that might have broken from the main group

"It's all good-natured, my dear." Grumman gave the other woman a conciliatory smile. "Maria is like a second granddaughter to me."

"If that is how granddaughters are usually treated, why are you so nice to me?"

"Because of my two granddaughters, you're my favorite." He winked at Riza, at which point the brunette punched him none-too-gently in the upper arm.

Rubbing the now aching appendage, he added, "I may need to rescind your title of honorary granddaughter."

Maria responded with an inappropriate hand gesture, and the conversation came largely to an end when they increased their speed. The night darkened as they went, clouds rolling across the moon, and the forest grew gloomy and silent, save for the occasional wisp of a leaf that fell to the ground. Soft moonlight would only periodically wind its way down before disappearing once more, and she had to keep careful eyes on the dirt before them.

The trio trekked in a similar manner for a half hour, meeting no one and crossing from Drachma into Western Amestris before the trail deviated. When she saw the prints leave the river's edge in favor of the woods, Riza rode a touch further before slowing her horse and dismounting, the others quickly doing the same. They led their mounts a shirt distance into the trees to conceal them, securing the reigns to branches, and then started off at a jog along the base of a rise.

With an abrupt hand motion Maria indicated she'd felt something and took the lead, eventually directing them up the side of the hill. They stepped lightly through underbrush, tree trunks interspersed with shrubs growing outward and upward from openings between rocks, several branches already bare with fall well underway. With another gesture the seer stopped them, pointing to the right, and Riza strode noiselessly in that direction with a nod.

After a few seconds she could hear the muffled crunch of footfalls and moved to one side of a tree. Shifting around it as the unknown individual passed on the other side, she stepped up behind him and dexterously wrapped her arm around his neck, placing a hand on his mouth. When he struggled she tightened her grip, releasing him just after he lost consciousness and lowering him to the ground. She took his bow and a few arrows, since she'd left hers with the horses, before dragging him into a cluster of bushes and rejoining the others.

Continuing up the slope, they reached the top and knelt behind the natural cover of rocks. Her eyes narrowed as she peered into the alcove below, exhaling through pursed lips while she nocked an arrow. There were enough Drachman soldiers to constitute a small raiding party, and it was obvious the camp was temporary, perhaps just for the night. Many of the men were drunk, laughing and brawling around two fires located at either end of the clearing. Others slept, using jackets as pillows, and all were armed, not one of them having set aside their weapons. No torches or tents were visible, but she knew there was a cave system nearby that could be utilized for additional shelter.

Suddenly, a bloodied and bruised man was dragged by his arms out of the trees. His head lolled, and he made no sound as he was pulled along, seemingly having been tortured nearly to death. He was tossed into the center of the campsite and soldiers began throwing bones from their meal or stones at him, whatever they had to hand. His clothes were in tatters, stained with his own blood and waste, and his face was swollen, mottled, and covered with cuts. Riza shared a pained look with her companions and in the next instant stiffened, drawing the bowstring back reflexively when a tall man with beady eyes and pale skin strode into the clearing. " _Fucking_ Xerxes..." she cursed.

"Tucker," Walter breathed, his disdain evident even in a whisper. Shou Tucker was one of the Drachman King Anton's favorite generals, due in large part to his violent persuasion and disregard for human life. As one of many stories went, the man had set fire to a house filled with children in order to teach a disobedient village a lesson. He'd promised them food and locked them in before creating the blaze, forcing their loved ones to watch, to listen to the agonized screams. Riza felt a powerful impulse to send an arrow to meet his skull.

"Where is it hidden _,_ swine?" When the man did not speak, the general laughed derisively and stepped forward, unleashing a stream of urine on the prisoner's face.

The man fought weakly to get away, but two soldiers gripped his arms and third held his head in place. Once the flow stopped he spit, shaking his head, and then looked up at Tucker. "May the house of Avgar perish." Riza grinned at the trace of defiance in his voice.

The general cuffed him again, lifting him by the rags that remained of his shirt. "I will find it, and you will have died in vain."

"May the house of Avgar perish," he repeated.

With an apathetic shrug, Tucker tossed him back to the ground. "Kill him."

Several soldiers surrounded the prisoner, dragging him back from whence he came, no doubt with the intention of administering more needless cruelty. "I have an idea." She led them away in a crouch before rising to run down the hillside, curving around to the north toward where the soldiers had disappeared with their victim. They were nearly at ground level when Maria came to a halt and grasped their hands, her eyes clouding over with gray and hints of purple as they focused on a point some distance ahead. Two more scouts materialized out of the night, drunkenly ambling toward the area they'd just left, and passed mere feet in front of them altogether oblivious, the seer's swirling gaze following them. Riza caught a snippet of mutterings in Drachman, ' _idiot_ _Raytov_ _never came back_ ,' and she knew their presence might soon be discovered.

As soon as the scouts were out of sight they proceeded, slowing when the glow of another fire became visible ahead. The men that had just left the other camp sat around it, the prisoner tied to a surprisingly distant tree bathed in shadows; apparently they did not anticipate much risk of escape. Circling the area, the trio approached the captive from behind and knelt beside him, shielding themselves behind trees and vegetation. She shared a look with her grandfather and he nodded, turning to keep an eye on the soldiers while Maria snaked an arm toward the unknown man, placing a few fingers in the center of his forehead. He made no response to their presence, or the seer's touch.

The brunette's eyes shut in concentration, and her lips slowly formed a frown before she whispered, "He doesn't know what they seek, he simply detests King Anton." She was silent another moment. "He is practically delirious...I'm surprised he was able respond to Tucker at all."

"Very well." She spoke low so her voice would not carry, making a rapid visual survey of the soldiers. "I'll make his death quick." The seer briefly kept her hand on his forehead, making his last few minutes happier ones, and then moved aside. Riza shifted carefully to the spot vacated by the other woman and gently took the stranger's hand, exhaling as she sought out his life force. What energy flowed through his body felt faint and diaphanous, evidence that the abuse he suffered had been severe and unrelenting, and she softly whispered, "It is unforgivable, what they've done to you." Shooting another look at the Drachmans she began to draw his life force into herself, letting it gradually trickle through her hand, his immense sorrow making it feel as though ice cold water crawled through her arm.

The man's breathing all but stopped, his sporadic inhalations even more shallow than they'd been a minute before. She took his energy slowly such that, to him, it would be no different than falling asleep and, when he expired, it was with a lopsided grin thanks to whatever false reality Maria had given him. Releasing him, she concealed herself entirely behind the large tree trunk and gripped her grandfather's arm with one hand, the seer's with another. She took a moment to pass some of the fallen captive's life force into each of them, and Grumman shuddered.

"I'll never get used to that," Maria added with a little shiver of her own.

"Merda, Riza," he softly swore. "That was..."

"I thought you could use the energy," she replied as they paced away, hurrying back to the horses. "We all have a long night ahead of us."

His chuckle was uneven from shortness of breath. "I don't disagree...I was only going to ask for a warning next time."

"Fair enough." She smiled when they reached the mounts, freeing Max's reigns and deftly jumping into the saddle. They raced south toward the nearest road and she was grateful for the increase in cloud-cover. It would certainly aid in their disappearance, but it also made their rush in the darkness along the edge of the Vaal Plat much more treacherous. When they finally came upon the road it was fortuitously empty and she slowed, letting her horse trot to the right. "I must return to Dunairne Keep immediately."

"I'll ride to Darabane to warn Armstrong...he has no seer," Grumman interjected with a nod. "I'll see you in a few days' time, my dears."

"Take care," she told him and, with a tiny wave, directed Max across the bridge, picking up speed when Maria appeared at her side. Riza was already envisioning distances and planning the best route for them, taking into account the terrain they would encounter. Their horses were bred for speed and, therefore, if the weather remained clear and they were able to keep to the road, they should reach Dunairne by early afternoon the following day, accounting for rests and potential obstacles. Setting a quick pace, she gazed ahead, trying to recall the best places to forage for food along the road home.

* * *

The two women reached Dunairne a few hours later than she'd predicted, and Riza was pleased to see the Hawkeye flag waving in the distance. Depicted was a white falcon on a steel-blue background, a series of seven star-flowers embroidered along one of its spread wings, with decorative silver stitching as a border. The falcon was a remnant of more distant generations of her family, before they left Drachma and settled in Creta, taking on the surname of Hawkeye in the process. The flowers were an homage to her mother, as well as her distant relation to King Felipe of Creta.

Stone walls towered ahead of them, the great iron gate already rising, indicating that one of the archers had caught sight of them. As they neared more soldiers could be seen traversing the ramparts, just visible over the parapets, and beyond the keep loomed, overshadowing the bailey in a way that was, in her opinion, welcoming rather than imposing. Hooves clattered on stone when they rode through the gateway, heading straight for the stables so the horses might feed and rest.

They had maintained a demanding pace during the trip, pausing to rest only when absolutely necessary to avoid overworking the mounts. On a few occasions, they were forced to leave the road in favor of a lesser-known trail in order to evade a group of individuals that Maria detected nearby, which caused them to lose some time. Riza was exhausted but, as she lowered herself to the ground and took her bow, quiver, and saddle bags, she pushed dreams of a warm bed aside. Stroking Max's neck, she murmured her gratitude and gave him an apple.

Slinging the bags over a shoulder, she exited the stables, giving the soldier that approached them a smile in greeting. His scarred face was tanned from years in the sun, framed with sandy brown hair and, though he was shorter than many of the men he led, his was a commanding presence. "Stevens, I'm glad we find you well."

"Welcome back, milady," he replied with an inclination of the head, his voice turning into a laugh when Maria catapulted into his arms.

"Will you be needing me, my lady?" the brunette asked.

"No, thank you, Maria. Good night." Her lips quirked again as she crossed the bailey toward the keep, passing the blacksmith, barracks, and craftsmen's buildings as she did. The stronghold was relatively simple, with just a few towers presiding over the parapet-topped curtain wall that surrounded the ward. In the southeastern corner the keep was found, which was relatively small since it was originally built to serve only military purposes. To her left smoke rose from the chimney that branched off from the kitchens, her stomach grumbling in response to thoughts of food. She had loved to sit by the great fireplace in her childhood, reading while her mother reviewed menus, accounts, and supplies with the cook. There was always a soup simmering or tea brewing, giving off enticing scents that somehow managed waft upward through the keep's three higher levels.

At that moment, the main doors swung open with a loud groan and the steward exited with his usual amicable visage. "Lady Hawkeye...you have returned. Shall I have a bath prepared for you and a meal sent up to your chambers?"

"Yes, please, Master Curzon. I must first speak with my father...is he in the library?"

"Yes, my lady." He took her bags, along with the bow and quiver, all of which he would deliver to her rooms, and added, "I'll see to everything immediately."

"Thank you." She strode quickly up the stone stairs, leaving one of the doors propped open to let the light, crisp breeze flow through the passages, and turned toward the library, the aroma of what she guessed to be a lamb stew already reaching her.

At a thick, oak door she knocked twice, waiting to hear a muffled 'Enter' before pulling it open. The room was warm and inviting, with a massive walnut desk on one side and books lining the opposite wall in what constituted one of the finest collections outside the Capital. It was unusual for a country noble to own so many, but Dunairne's library had been built over generations, each new lord and his family adding to it over the past two centuries. Nearby a pair of chairs occupied the rug before the fireplace, with a small table between them most frequently used for tea or chess.

It was in one of those armchairs that she found her father, staring pensively into the fire, a glass of fine Cretan wine in one hand. Firelight flickered over the scar running along one side of his face, alternately bathing it in shadow and light. Curiously, the leather band he often wore on his left wrist was missing, and she took note of the tattoo that was ordinarily covered. The image of an exquisite rose graced the skin of his inner wrist, flanked by black tendrils that danced and coiled around each other as they encircled the joint completely. She could not recall having ever seen the design before, and she momentarily wondered why anyone would hide such artwork. Taking the chair next to his, she returned her focus to the matter at hand and said, "Good evening, father. You are well?"

Berthold Hawkeye slid an already filled glass of wine toward her over the table-top, looking particularly weary. "Well enough," he replied, taking a sip of his own and adjusting a few strands of shoulder length, flaxen hair that fell from its leather tie. "You're early...I did not expect you until tomorrow. Is there anything I should know?"

"Yes, I returned in order to speak with you." She accepted the beverage, raising it toward him as a silent expression of her thanks. "Drachman soldiers have entered Western Amestris. They are hiding well, using forgotten trails and carving out new ones wherever necessary."

Her father gave a thoughtful nod. "I shall send out messages...find out what other nobles have seen."

"Grandfather has gone to warn Lord Armstrong." She took a drink, aware that her next piece of news would be even less pleasant. "That's not the worst. We saw Tucker."

"You're sure?" He looked over sharply, trying to hide the unease in his gaze, but she knew it was there.

Riza nodded, her lips forming a thin line. "Not thirty miles from here. He'd captured and tortured someone, possibly a loyalist."

"One of the old families, then. Who was he?"

"We couldn't determine the victim's identity, the damage to his mind was too great, but they wanted a location from him. Tucker was looking for something."

He exhaled heavily, his expression turning almost angry. "No amount of riches is enough for their Cruel King. I doubt his hunt for wealth ever truly stops, its focus simply shifts from one location to another depending on his moods."

"Chance or not this is the closest they have ever ventured to to Dunairne. And to say I don't care for it is putting it mildly. He may even intend to make a move against Creta." She paused to peruse the tray of biscuits on the table. "How would you like to proceed?"

Her father spoke quietly, mostly to himself, his mind working. "Drachmans growing bold..." He looked up again suddenly, as if just hearing her. "That will be my concern alone."

Her brow furrowed at the odd reply. "And may I ask _why_? You need me here."

"I concur." Her father drained his glass, setting it aside. "However, your cousin is to be wed and your presence is required. Lord Traherne conveyed his daughter's request that you attend as her maid-of-honor."

Her gaze moved to the fire, watching the flames writhe and the logs pop. "I am happy to go, I've not seen Gracia for months, but the timing is less than desirable."

"I thought you would not mind. I will remain here...your grandmother has never been my greatest admirer, as you know."

"How long must I stay?"

"At least the week."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "With all due respect, father, that is unwise. I shouldn't stay away so long, not with Tucker so close to our door."

He gave her one of his arch smiles that meant he believed caution was getting the best of her. "He is hardly _at our door_. He is many miles away, as you said. Do not fret over me, my dear. Nothing will lead them to Dunairne."

"It's not my intention to be difficult, but you cannot guarantee that. No one knows where Anton's caprice may carry them, and I'm more useful _here_."

"You know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't feel it was important. Go...enjoy yourself." He turned, taking her hand. "There are things I need to take care of here before winter arrives, but our family must be represented at Lady Gracia's wedding."

After a moment of consideration, she consented. "Very well. When are the nuptials?"

"Eight days hence...at Lochstone." His eyes narrowed curiously. "You're generally more stubborn than this."

She smirked. "True, but you make a valid point. If you attended Althea would cause a mountain of strife for everyone." She gave a little shrug, trying to present a more relaxed air. "Tucker's proximity is simply unsettling...and I worry for you."

"That you inherited from your mother."

Riza rose, emptying the glass and kissing his cheek. "If you''ll excuse me, I'm rather drained."

"Of course." He gave her a hug. "I'll be sending Captain Stevens with you, along with a few of his men. It would look odd if I sent you with too small an escort."

"I understand, however I am certain the gossiping matrons will comment on that unusual Lord Hawkeye...allowing his daughter to travel accompanied only by a few soldiers. How _could_ he?"

His close-lipped grin was one of amusement. "I would be happy to send more men, if you like."

"Not necessary." Riza gave him one final smile and left the room, contemplating all the preparations that would need to be completed before they left. Her time was limited and, as she was adding items to a mental list, her musings were interrupted by others. She shook her head lightly as she walked, unable to precisely identify the strange quality of the conversation with her father. He had never been what she would call a cheerful man, so his morose demeanor when she entered the study was not an anomaly. However, she had gotten the impression, fleeting though it was, that he was keeping something from her. She could not decide if he truly was, or if her vexation regarding the Drachman's had caused her to imagine it.

She set those thoughts aside, attributing them to her tendency toward concern for her father, and paused at the foot of the stairs when Master Curzon found her once more. "Shall I have your breakfast ready at the usual time tomorrow, my lady?"

"Yes, Curzon. And I've had a change in plans. Please inform Captain Stevens and Lady Maria that we are leaving in five days, and have the carriage prepared that morning with enough food for travel to Lochstone."

"Yes, my lady."

The steward paced quickly away and Riza took the stairs to her quarters, pushing the heavy door shut, lips curving in response to the cheerful ambiance of a crackling fireplace. A hot bath awaited her, with a glass of wine carefully laid out alongside fresh bread and fruit. She went about removing her clothes, pausing at her dressing table to brush the dirt from her hair and take off what little jewelry she wore. Distractedly twisting the band on her left thumb, she lowered herself into the nearest chair and fought off a shiver, still able to feel chilled echoes of the unfortunate prisoner's life force. The sensation was unique whenever she absorbed another's _rivu_ _leta_ _vitae_ , as the few with her gift called it (a population comprised, to her knowledge, of herself and her father). And never before had it felt so cold, like blood freezing in her veins. It had filled her with an overwhelming sense of foreboding, and she could not shake the suspicion that something was coming.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a good one! :)

 **Responses to guest review(s):**

COOLER: I was so glad to hear the first chapter intrigued you! Thank you for checking out my story, and for your comments :)


	3. Growing Suspicions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I hope life is good! This was definitely a longer break than I intended. I had a couple mini-vacations, which were _awesome_ , and my schedule when a little haywire for a while. For whatever reason I've found I like to post on Sundays, so I'll stick to that in the future. I'm shooting for every other week (that may or may not work out), but from now on I'll keep my posts to that day of the week so you have at least some idea when you might expect them. I hope that helps :)

Anyway...responses to guest reviews from the previous chapter can be found that the end of this one, and on to the new chapter!

* * *

 **Growing Suspicions**

A week had passed since Roy's unusual evening at The Rose, and the old seer's words had frequently returned to his thoughts. They echoed in his mind and, try as he might to discern any clues as to the identity of the 'marked one,' little could be gleaned from the image of a gate with vines and a single rose. For three days he spent his free time in the library at Lochstone, poring over monstrous tomes containing the history of various countries and their nobility. Thorough as he was, he could find no banner, symbol, or coat of arms that resembled it, nor any other useful piece of information. He dared not speak to anyone else about it, as it all seemed rather ridiculous and he was not prepared to admit that it might be true. In actuality, he'd been briefly inclined to make inquiries about his father, but he was uncertain precisely how to broach the subject with his mother. She rarely spoke of him, and never in much detail.

His lack of success only strengthened his suspicions that the seer had simply made a spectacular claim in an attempt to con additional money from him, and he was relieved to have only wasted time and not more coin. After that, it was easy to let the seer's prophecy slip to the back of his mind as the entire castle reached unheard of levels of activity, every individual in residence readying it for their guests. A few key members of the peerage would soon arrive to celebrate the wedding, and such a gathering was a rarity in the rural areas. Lochstone was certainly a respectable stronghold, but it was not prominent enough, nor close enough to the capital, to often receive members of the royal court.

Returning his attention to the present, he inhaled deeply and smiled to himself, raking a hand through his black hair as he glanced around the open, rectangular yard. The morning was cool and slightly damp, thanks to the frost beginning to evaporate as the sun brightened. The sky grew lighter over the castle walls, and it promised to be a pleasantly warm fall day, quite possibly one of the few remaining. The blacksmith was already at work in the forge and teams were heading out for the day's foraging and hunting. A few servants processed the most recent grain harvest, while others picked vegetables and herbs in the kitchen garden. Sunlight crept down the stone walls of the keep, doors thrown open as more members of the household joined the bustle. He glanced across the yard in time to see Fuery fall on his back for the sixth time that morning, Breda offering him a hand in the next moment. The tracker was an excellent archer, and his blade-skills were steadily improving, if not in the greatest of strides.

After another breath, Roy took a drink of water and turned back to his own sparring partner, who was chatting with his steward. "Does this mean you yield, my lord?"

Hughes shot him an amused look before dismissing the other man and rejoining him. "Had a nice rest, Captain?"

"Indeed. Though I believe you needed it more than I. Shall I let you win one?"

Maes chuckled. "I did think that, as your friend, I was entitled to a couple victories. But worry not, young man, you are about to feel the sting of defeat."

"Young man?" he said with a laugh, twirling the swords briefly to loosen his wrists as they began to circle each other. "You are only a few years my senior." He lunged, but his friend blocked it and they spun apart.

"And yet, much more talented."

He sliced toward Hughes' abdomen with one blade and side-stepped, blocking his friend's counter in the process with the other sword. "You were saying?" The other man coughed, stepped away, and they started circling once more. "You should leave off the pipe more often than just for sparring, that cough might improve."

Maes burst into a series of attacks and, at first, Roy could only manage to pace backward and block, parrying left, then right, then left again. Finally, he found his opportunity and pressed forward, pushing the man's sword aside with one blade and aiming for his side with the other. Hughes twisted away, barely managing to counter at the last second. His weapon shot out, but his footing was not solid and Roy took advantage of his distraction. He stepped to the side, one sword putting downward pressure on Maes' while the other pushed upward, flipping the weapon out of his friend's grasp. As it clanged to the ground he leveled a sword near his throat with a smirk. "What was that you were saying...something along the lines of your great talent?"

Grinning, the other man said, "You know, with your sarcastic ways, any other lord would send you packing." He said it humorously, but it was likely true.

He lowered his weapons with an amused snort, picking up Hughes' sword and passing it to him. "Fortunate, then, that I was hired by you." They shook hands and he added, "An excellent bout."

"The same to you. It is always a challenge, Mustang."

He gave a nod of gratitude. "Please excuse me. Mother invited me to join her for the morning meal."

"The best of luck to you, my friend."

"I may need it," he chuckled, striding away to return his sparring swords to the armory before heading toward the keep. He slipped through a side door leading to the kitchens, taking the back stairs to his quarters. An inviting bath awaited him and he rapidly washed and dressed before ascending to the fourth floor where his mother was staying in a modest set of rooms. With a light knock on the door he entered the sitting room and found her near the window, sunlight streaming over the table before her. A tray rested there with a small tea-pot, a plate piled with toast, a bowl of soft-boiled eggs, and another of fresh fruit next to a selection of preserves.

She set a book aside as he took the other chair and gave him a small smile, sipping her tea primly. "Good morning, darling." The Lady Lenora Mustang was a bright-eyed woman with a confident bearing whose stern features softened only for her son. Her black hair bore the hint of silver and was swept up elegantly, dark wisps fashionably framing her face.

"Good morning, mother." He set to work pouring himself a cup of tea and filling a plate, and she handed the jar of blackberry preserves to him. "Thank you."

"Your sparring went well today?" Lenora had been born into the Amestrian aristocracy and, though her lineage was not royal, she came from what was once a remarkably wealthy family. Her marriage to his father had been a happy one, until the man died and the family disowned them, not having approved of the match. They had lived with his maternal uncle near the western border of Creta for years, stretching his mother's fortune as well as they could. She was currently a few days into a month-long visit to Lochstone and, though he truly loved his mother, her poorly veiled marriage-talk had already driven him to exasperation.

"It did, thank you. Kain Fuery is improving."

"I am glad to hear it. You know I disapprove of you traveling with anyone unskilled."

He gave her a wry smile. "I am a quite capable soldier myself."

"I know, dear. I just worry...living out there with your Uncle Rick, so far from civilization. I never know whether you're alive or dead."

"And that statement is not melodramatic in the slightest."

She let out a quiet laugh. "I suppose it was." His mother took a bite of toast, washing it down with tea. "Now, as I was saying yesterday. Lord and Lady Morrow will be attending the ceremony, they're relations of Lord Hughes, you know. And Roy, darling, I believe you would find their daughter, Lady Silaris, delightful. The family is prosperous and Lady Roberta Morrow is, as you know, my good friend. I know you've met Lady Silaris before, but it has been some time and..."

"Mother," he interrupted, trying to mask his tiny sigh of vexation by taking a bite of egg, savoring the rich yolk. "Could we not do this today, please?"

"What, dear?"

"That verbal dance where you attempt to _inflict_ Lady Silaris upon me and I refuse."

"I only thought you might like to meet someone your own age." She shifted her skirts with a small exhalation, appraising him out of the corner of her eye. "We don't have much, but I do have a small fortune remaining. And it has grown thanks to you..." Lenora briefly placed her hand on his. "Despite our circumstances you are still a member of the nobility and, well, at this point in their lives _some_ young men consider starting a family."

His chuckle was light. "I feel that a union with Lady Silaris would, in that respect, be counterproductive as I'm fairly certain she would murder me in my sleep."

"Utterly ridiculous." There was a tiny smirk on her face as she freshened his tea, and she pursed her lips in an effort to hide her amusement.

"In any case, you need not fret, mother. I meet plenty of women."

"How wonderful." Her response was derisive.

He spread preserves on his toast before attempting to change the subject. "What other news of the celebration?"

"Lord Hughes received word this morning that Lord Hawkeye's daughter would be in attendance. A strange family, that….they hardly ever socialize, but she _is_ the bride's cousin." After a second's thought she added, "Lord MacMillan and his family will come, as will Lord Hakuro, which is a great honor since he is a close adviser of the King. Then there is, of course, the Lady Gracia and her parents."

"Yes, she might need to be here."

In response his dry comment she merely raised her eyebrows, and then said, "I am glad to see you, darling. It was incredibly kind of Lord Hughes to give me a place to stay. You are clearly doing well here." She placed her hand on his again. "But you send me entirely too much money. Keep some for yourself, would you?"

"I have more than I need...don't worry about me." He frequently had the thought that he would love to meet a relative from his father's family, if only to ask how they could abandon a young woman and her child as they did.

"It is my right as a mother. I wanted to ask...have you been feeling alright?"

"Yes. The headaches have not come back." For a short time in his teenage years he experienced a rash of severe migraines which were so debilitating he was unable to leave his room for a week. Light pained his eyes, he could hardly walk straight, and nausea had gripped him in a way he hoped to never experience again. Thankfully it ended, only to occur once more approximately three years later, and then the headaches stopped entirely. His mother liked to half-heartedly attribute the symptoms to wine, but he knew she did not believe that. Otherwise, she would not ask.

"Good. Before I forget, your uncle sent you a gift in one of my trunks. You'll have to remind me to find it." She glanced at the door when there was a knock. "Enter."

A man clad in soldier's garb with white-blond hair stepped inside, giving a hurried bow. "Forgive the intrusion, my lady, but the Captain is needed immediately."

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly in response to the servant's tense tone. "Please excuse me, mother. Duty calls." He stood, leaning to kiss her cheek before heading toward the door.

"Do be careful, love."

He turned at the door, a pleasant grin on his face. "I always am." With that he strode into the hall, his expression morphing into one more serious almost instantly as he took the stairs down, the soldier at his side. "What is the problem, Noakes?"

The man shot him a worried look. "One of our own, milord. Missing."

He glanced over somewhat sharply in surprise. "Who?"

"Park. He went on a routine scouting mission last night, Captain...southeast by the Foile. He never returned."

Roy's brow furrowed. "Where is Lord Hughes?"

"He's already in the bailey, sir. Near the stables."

"Thank you, Noakes. You're free to return to your duties." Before turning away, he lowered his voice. "Keep this quiet for now."

"Yes, sir."

He returned to his own rooms to collect his sword, deftly slinging it across his back and picking up his replenished saddle bags on the way out. Continuing to the lower floors, he paused in the kitchens, asking the matronly cook with a smile for a few rations of salt-cured venison. He then disappeared through the nearest door, strolling briskly across the yard until he reached Hughes just outside the stables. "My lord...Park never reported in from the southeast octant this morning."

He shook his head, letting out a tiny chuckle of disbelief. "What could be keeping the boy I have no idea. Nothing ever happens on the banks of the Foile." He took a look around the yard. "Still, in light of recent events, I'd like you to take a look."

He held up his bags. "I had the same thought." To a passing soldier he said, "Find Fuery. Tell him to prepare to leave and meet me at the stables." He turned back to Maes. "I'll just take the tracker. We'll move more quickly."

"Our guests arrive this evening," he added pointedly.

He nodded. "I know...but if I find something, I should pursue it."

"Of course. Still, I'm counting on you to make sure I go through with this."

"The nerves have set in, I see. It won't be so terrible...I'm sure Lady Gracia is wonderful."

"Why the sudden optimism?" Maes chuckled. "No doubt you're thrilled at the prospect of seeing Lady Silaris."

"Oh, yes. And I'll thoroughly enjoy running in the opposite direction the moment I do."

"Quite the gentleman."

"It _is_ an art. Or so they say." Upon seeing Fuery exit the barracks he shook hands with Hughes. "I will do my best to return in time. Park shouldn't have gotten too far."

"I do hope the boy's alright. If not..."

"There may be more going on than we thought," he finished. "I know." Roy entered the stables, heading directly for the stall in which his silver-dappled mare was housed. Her coat was such a dark chocolate brown that from a distance it appeared black, her mane and tale flowing silver in stark contrast. She eyed him, shifting her feet, and he smiled, running a hand along her neck. "Morning, Mercedes. Ready to escape these stables?" She snorted and he set about brushing and saddling her, securing his bags to the tack in the process.

He led her out of the stall and met Fuery at the doors, where they rose into their respective saddles, taking the horses through the main gates at a relaxed pace. The sun shone more brightly, and the air was already noticeably warmer than it had been before breakfast. The grass glistened in places where shadows were just beginning to recede and frost still clung to the blades. There were only a few white clouds in the sky, which was largely clear for miles in all directions, and the breeze was light.

The road that led to the gates was busy with a stream of horse-drawn carts, some belonging to local farmers and others to merchants. They were gathering on the eastern lawn outside the curtain wall to conduct the weeks' business with castle staff and residents. With noblemen coming soon, there would be a fervor to impress the guests with fashionable jewelry, the freshest meats and cheeses, and the finest fabrics.

He gestured to the tracker and they followed the wall south, passing the impromptu market and branching off toward the forest to take a small road that wound through it. They were quiet for some time until Fuery broke the silence, his query somewhat hesitant. "May I ask, Captain, why you're investigating this personally?"

"I want to ensure that, whatever is found, I see it with my own eyes."

"Does this have anything to do with those bandits?"

"That's what I would like to find out." In truth, Roy had a feeling the incidents were connected, and that concerned him. The man he had interrogated knew little and, judging by that lack of knowledge, whoever happened to be pulling the strings was being cleverly careful in the dissemination of information.

* * *

The carriage rocked gently along the dirt road and Riza reclined in the cushioned seat, watching the woodland edge as they passed. No matter how many times she journeyed through the Cretan countryside, it always fascinated her that the scenery was never the same twice. It grew and morphed as time passed, becoming more wild in one area, weathered beyond recognition in another, or tamed by a nearby farmer in yet another.

Her favorite spot on this particular roadway, the point she always looked for, was the barely visible ruin of a house, or perhaps a guard post, from decades or even centuries prior. Ivy crept along stone walls polished by the elements, trees grew from what could have been a dining room, flowers and wild herbs sprouted at the threshold of an old doorway. In the southwestern corner sat an old stone bench, just beneath the canopy of a Xingese cherry tree; the scent was heavenly in the spring.

A slight jarring ended her reverie and she remembered the book in her lap, briefly forgotten as she stared out the window. The sun was past its apex, the afternoon still quite warm, and she judged that they should reach their destination soon. With a gentle nudge she woke Maria, and then reached ahead to tap her book against her grandfather's knee. His eyes opened immediately, he never slept terribly deeply, and he perused the passing forest while he stretched. As if realizing something, he reached into a bag on the seat next to him and took a swig from a flask, holding it out to her as an offer of a drink. After a moment he raised his eyebrows. "Need I remind you, we are about to see your grandmother."

She smirked and drank from the flask before passing it to Maria. "An excellent point."

"Actually," he said with a little smile, "after so many years, I imagine I'll be quite pleased to see my wife."

"I think 'mildly irritated' would be more accurate."

"I cannot believe you think I don't enjoy every moment spent in her company."

"I'm sure you do," she replied with an expression that quickly turned mischievous. "I simply think you enjoy the moments spent in her absence much more."

Only a few minutes later the coach started to slow, a shadow darkening the interior when they rode through the gates of Lochstone Castle. She'd often heard of the stronghold, positioned thirty miles to the south of her beloved Dunairne, but never had a prior opportunity to visit. The walls were constructed of a light gray stone, and the afternoon sun peeked over the ramparts at the perfect angle, giving the keep a warm luminescence. The lush, green yard stretched toward the walls, crossed by practical gravel walkways leading toward the tradesmen's booths, training areas, and barracks.

Her grandfather helped her out of the carriage and she was immediately approached by a kindly gentleman who introduced himself as the steward, Master Ireton, and informed them that the bride had already arrived. He led them through a maze of halls and she marveled at the warm and inviting nature of the small stronghold. Tapestries hung from the walls and torches glowed in sconces, supplemented with candles spaced at even intervals. Servants that passed watched them curiously while they were shown to Gracia's chambers, where they made themselves comfortable. A fire already roared, colorful stained glass windows covered one wall, and the sizable private parlor was full of comfortable chairs with luxurious rugs underfoot. She gave the bride to be a cheerful hug and the small group dropped into chairs and settees with that collective sigh of relief that everyone seems to exhibit after travel of any distance.

Taking a cup of tea with a smile and passing it to her, Grumman asked, "Where is Lord Traherne? I thought he'd escort you." Lord Cavan Traherne was Riza's granduncle, and his family had always been her favorite relations.

"My father is coming from the Capital," Gracia replied, removing her elegant hat and a few of the pins that had held it in place. "I came from the country, but the King summoned him to the city at the last minute. He'll be in late this evening."

"The country estate," her grandfather mused. "Beinn Verna...If I recall correctly, he was planning quite a few renovations. What has he done to the..."

"Hello, _Walter_ ," a disdain-laced voice interrupted from the direction of the door. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence." Lady Althea Grumman imperiously waved the few servants left out of the room, calculating blue eyes evaluating her husband. Her gray locks were arranged in a popular style near the base of her skull, and her sharp nose lent an air of perpetual solemnity and self-importance to her expression.

"Your wish is my command, _wife_."

"If that were the case, I doubt you would have taken to philandering so quickly."

"Before you climb up on your high horse, Althea...I knew about Lord Wyllk. I wonder, did that ever occur to you?"

"Perhaps I..."

Riza cleared her throat, lightly elbowing her grandfather for emphasis. "Perhaps you'd like to try some of the cakes, Gracia. I've heard the chef here at Lochstone is a genius." She took one for both herself and her cousin from a gleaming tray, body tensing slightly as she awaited the inevitable.

It came more quickly than even she anticipated when the older woman's gaze turned on her. Her voice lost some of it's anger and hatred, but it was replaced with a patronizing tone. "My goodness, you're thin. Do they _feed_ you out there? You're practically skin and bone."

She forced a smile and endeavored to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. "A pleasure as always, Althea."

"I do wish you would grow your hair out, like your mother did." She took a sip of tea as she examined her granddaughter, her eyes narrowing in a sure sign of an oncoming lecture. "People are talking, dear. They notice your failure to attend certain events...you should not be always cooped up in Lochstone. You really must start associating with members of your own social class."

"I'd be happy to oblige, of course, but as you can imagine I'm frequently occupied. Father relies on me a great deal to assist in the management of Lochstone."

" _Yes_." Her voice was acidic. "An occupation which would be unnecessary to foist upon a young woman had your father been at all competent. Speaking of, I trust _that man_ is still alive?"

"You really must stop blaming Berthold for Ellie's death," Walter firmly interjected.

"You have no right to tell me anything after all you've done. I have dealt with the death of my daughter _alone_."

Walter gave a wry, ill-timed laugh. "You left me years prior, dear wife. And you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me."

"You let _that man_ drag Riza into his insanity, and it has gone far enough." She lowered her voice. "He trained her in archery, _sword play_ , and all because of some ridiculous Hawkeye family tradition. What need a woman has for such skills, I'll never know."

"He gave her the ability to protect herself, for one. And I'll always be grateful for that."

"He made her..."

Riza saw her cousin's face fall as the dispute gained momentum and she stood sharply. "Enough. I can take no more of this." She eyed her grandmother. "Mother's death was an _accident_ , Althea, and I'll hear no more snide remarks at my father's expense." The other woman tried to speak but she held up a hand to stop her. "She was out riding...she couldn't have known the hunters had traveled so far south following game. You may not have had the opportunity to say your farewells, but _we_ were forced to watch her die. And yet it seems no thought of _our_ pain ever entered your mind." She took a breath. "Blame him if you must, but this is the final time I have this conversation."

"How _dare_..." Her grandmother drew herself up, as if preparing for a fight.

"Gracia," she interrupted with a smile, addressing her cousin. "Would you walk with me?" The bride nodded tensely, rising to her feet and, as Riza followed her to the door, she caught Grumman's eye. His expression was one of remorse and he gave her a meaningful look, while Althea continued to glare daggers at both her husband and her granddaughter. Once in the hall with the door closed, she linked arms with the other woman and said, "My grandfather apologizes."

" _Thank you_ for getting us out of there." She shook her head. "That woman is unbelievable, and it's eternally surprising to me that she's my aunt. Every time I see her she's berating someone." After another thought she added, "It must be so exhausting to be always filled with hatred."

"Would you like me to slip her a tonic of some kind? She could sleep through the ceremony and you needn't worry about the scene she might cause."

Gracia chuckled. "That's a kind offer, but I must decline. I imagine my father would be quite angry if I had his sister drugged." She suddenly noticed they were strolling along a servants' corridor and asked, "Where are we going?"

"I have a surprise for you." They took a set of stairs down another level and she pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing the kitchens. There was still a merry fire in the hearth, and a bottle of wine with two glasses stood on a table next to a tray of cookies. "I knew you'd be nervous...and that you like to eat when you're anxious."

Her cousin gave her a one-armed hug before lowering herself heavily onto a bench positioned next to the sturdy work table. "You are a Xerxes-sent miracle."

Riza joined the other woman, filling their glasses. "If I were that, I'd have managed to keep Althea and grandfather apart. I'm sorry...I had no idea she'd already arrived."

"Their contentious relationship isn't your fault. And the way she treats you, your father, and Uncle Walter is unpardonable. Is it true she denied you the inheritance from your mother?"

"Yes." She shrugged a shoulder. "But I don't need it."

"That's not the point." Gracia perused the available cookies. "So how is everyone? Stevens? Maria?"

"Stevens is fine, as is Maria. They're here, actually...and I believe she and Stevens may be on the way to the altar as well."

The other woman glanced up at her. "Really? I always thought he had a soft spot for you."

The blonde laughed, lifting her glass. "Stevens? No. I've always told you, we're war buddies...we've never been anything more."

"And the gentleman you've been seeing?" Gracia's eyebrows rose suggestively, gaze full of mischief.

"Don't worry about him, my lovely Lady Traherne."

"Does he know you can kill a man with your pinkie?"

She smirked. "I've never actually done that."

Her cousin released a sudden, heavy sigh. "Whatever am I going to do, Riza?" she asked, expression turning from one amused to one concerned in less than a second. "My parents hate each other...Althea and Walter hate each other. I've quite literally no idea how to have a successful marriage."

"Honestly, Gracia." She took the other woman's hand. "If anyone has a hope, you do."

The pair looked sharply at the other door into the kitchen when the sound of pounding feet echoed down the stairs, and then the door flew open. A man stood in the opening, watching them with the befuddled expression of someone who had not anticipated finding anyone at that hour. His green eyes were intelligent and bright, set in a long face with a mop of black hair atop his head. He looked somewhat anxiously at Gracia, undoubtedly aware that she was the future Lady Hughes, and gave a small bow. "Apologies for the interruption, ladies."

Riza grinned affably. "No apology required, Lord Hughes. Allow me to present the Lady Gracia Traherne...and let us offer our thanks for your kind hospitality." She rose to shake his hand. "It's lovely to make your acquaintance. I'm Lady Hawkeye...Lady Traherne's cousin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both and, please, make yourselves at home." His face warmed slightly at that, surely realizing that a certain woman would soon be calling Lochstone home permanently. With a little chuckle, he said, "I know I ought to be in hiding, but my best man was called away rather urgently. I simply came to steal a small dessert. I had no idea you...that is to say, I know we are not meant to see each other before the ceremony, and I..."

"It's really no problem, Lord Hughes. Please join us," she interjected with a sly wink to Gracia, whom she noticed had found the groom's rambling exceptionally charming. Filling another glass with wine, she passed it to him and added, "My cousin was just remarking on the beautiful orchard we passed a few miles away."

"Yes, I suppose I was." Gracia momentarily glared goodnaturedly at the blonde for putting her on the spot, but quickly recovered. "I'm especially fond of plum trees."

"In that case I'm happy to report that we have two dozen that should bear fruit next year. They were a gift from my father to my mother several years ago."

"What a lovely gift." She took a sip of wine. "My mother used to make the most incredible plum preserves every year. She would..."

Riza sat back with her wine and watched as the pair fell into easy conversation, a smile working its way onto her face. It was an unspoken tradition for the maid-of-honor to facilitate the circumventing of certain marriage customs, namely that which kept the bride and groom from meeting before their shared stroll to the altar. She had intended to organize a stealthy introduction, but to have him stumble into their kitchen hiding place was infinitely better. She could not have planned it so well.

After a short time she quietly excused herself, briefly wondering what might have called Lord Hughes' best man away at such a time, and hoping the Drachmans had not roamed near enough to cause trouble for Lochstone. She found the steward near the entryway and he led her to her rooms, and her curiosity swelled when Maria rose from the sofa as soon as she passed through the door. "Everything alright?"

"I was reading a few people...trying to learn more of Lord Hughes."

She smirked. "Are you not the one often advising me to trust people?"

"Yes, _thank you_." The brunette shrugged. "It's a habit of mine to read every now and then...keeps me sharp."

"I know, I'm only teasing. Gracia's marrying the man and I'll not refuse the information. Am I correct in assuming you found something?"

"It's not Hughes. From what I've learned he's an exceptional man." She hesitated. "But someone else has been in his mind. It seems we have another seer to contend with."

Riza's eyebrows rose in surprise. "And evidently they're curious about something."

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day!

 **Responses to guest review(s)** :

Cooler: I'm so glad to hear you're still liking it! Thank you for your comments :)

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	4. The Wedding

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I hope life is treating you well. I'm pretty sure I had something to say in this little note, but now I'm very tired and it completely escapes me. So, with no preamble whatsoever...I hope you like the chapter :)

* * *

 **The Wedding**

Roy and the tracker searched the southeastern octant of Lochstone's purview for the better part of a day, before Fuery felt any hint of the scout's presence nearby. They had tied off the horses and continued on foot, with the younger man pausing occasionally to look for prints and press his hand to a tree, analyzing the aura of the area around him. The forest was cool, the boughs above in that region thick enough to prevent the sun's light and heat from reaching them. Colorful leaves littered the ground, and the majority of the greenery that remained came from firs, pines and other evergreens.

The sound of water trickling and flowing over rocks reached their ears and they soon reached the bank of the Foile River. Roy chuckled as he walked up to it, crouching to fill his water skin. "How this was ever called a river is beyond me. It's more a stream...a brook at best." He took a long drink, the icy water immensely refreshing. "Reminds me of the Tiger Canyon in Aerugo. It wasn't a canyon, just a small valley where a road passed, and I was supremely disappointed by the lack of tigers."

"That's because there are no tigers in Aerugo, Captain," Fuery responded in amusement, splashing his face.

"I know, I know, I'm simply saying they shouldn't name landmarks in such a misleading manner."

The tracker gave a quiet laugh and then stopped, motionlessly watching the opposite edge of the rivulet. He pointed toward a grouping of trees and said, voice low, "He's through there, Cap."

"Is anyone else near?"

"Not that I can tell."

Roy stepped carefully into the water and drew his sword, pacing slowly across the stream and up onto the bank. Next to him Fuery nocked an arrow, and he could hear the creak as the bowstring was drawn back. He pointed to his left and the tracker shifted several strides in that direction; if an ambush awaited, he did not want them to present a single target. A glade began to materialize ahead and he glanced to Fuery, who shook his head to indicate that he still did not sense any other beings in the vicinity.

He continued forward, shaking his head at the sight of the young man Park, lying near the rocky slope that bordered the clearing on one side. He replaced his weapon in the scabbard and knelt next to the body, looking him over and searching his pockets. The tunic bearing the Hughes' family crest was bloody in multiple places, torn as if by claws, but otherwise in practically pristine condition. The skin along the edges of the wounds on his chest and stomach was shredded; he'd seen similar injuries on deer attacked by predators. The dead man's weapon lay next to his body, the contents of his pack and quiver strewn about him. The ground was covered in prints, and he could discern two sets of tracks leading away. Only one was human.

"By all appearances, this was an animal attack. Fuery?"

The tracker crouched at his side, one hand on the ground, eyes scanning the clearing, and he gestured to one of the trails leading out of the clearing. "The malevolence flows that way, but something feels...uneven. We were not the first to find this, Captain. And whatever did this is long gone."

He nodded. "We'll bury him and follow the trail...and we'll have to send the hunters out this way. We can't have a wolf roaming the lands with a taste for human flesh."

"Yes, Captain."

They buried their fallen comrade under enough rocks to protect him from scavengers until more men could be sent to retrieve him, and then left to track whoever had found him first. The prints wound through the trees before climbing up a rise and following its crest for a short time. It then dipped back down into the woods, steadily moving south with no sign of even a temporary camp.

Suspicion gnawed at Roy such that they continued the pursuit for at least two hours longer than he had initially intended. Taking into account the mercenaries they had recently trailed, it struck him as more than mere coincidence that some mysterious group would pass through the same clearing where Park was attacked, and only a short time after his death. He was forced to wonder if the scout had known the individuals, had perhaps arranged to meet with them for some reason. That last thought did nothing to ease his mind.

Unfortunately, though they moved quickly, it seemed their targets had a substantial enough lead that Fuery was still unable to sense them. Unwillingly, he admitted defeat and they hurriedly backtracked to their horses to make camp. The next morning two men left at first light, and as they rode he repeatedly checked the position of the sun. The search had taken them to the furthest reaches of the southern octant and, as such, nearly twenty miles of travel were before them. Thus, they raced in the direction of Lochstone castle, Roy's back becoming excruciatingly stiff from the effort, and all the while he fervently hoped to have time to bathe before the ceremony.

Finally, the torches atop the battlements greeted them like beacons. Ever since he'd started working with the Hughes family he'd loved returning to that castle: the bright flames dancing along the wall, the clank of the massive gate opening and closing, that comfortable feeling that settles in your chest when you are _home_. It was always warm and inviting, not dank and algid as other strongholds often were.

Flying through the gates he jumped from the saddle near the stables, tossing his reigns to the tracker and taking the time for only a quick pat on the neck for Mercedes. Hastily collecting his effects he said, "Have Breda send a team to retrieve the body, and _discreetly_ take a look through Park's belongings." If there was any reason for the soldier to have ventured as far as the Foile, other than the scouting mission assigned to him, Roy wanted to know.

"Yes, Cap. And I'll see to your girl," Fuery replied, tilting his head toward the mare.

"Thank you." He sprinted into the keep, taking the stairs two or three at a time and garnering some astonished looks from the serving staff. He grinned on seeing Maes' valet, Vato Falman, waiting outside his rooms and said, "How late am I, Vato?"

"Nearly twenty four hours, Captain."

"Then I would say I am right on time."

"I doubt his Lordship will agree." The silver-haired man chuckled as he opened the door. "I took the liberty of preparing a bath, Captain." The man turned his head as a servant rushed up to him, and then took a step inside. "A few guests are yet arriving, I am told a storm blocked a road or two, and the ceremony will begin in twenty minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

Roy had already undressed for the most part and sipped from the glass of wine on the table before sliding into the water. "No, thank you, Falman. Please inform Lord Hughes that I will be down shortly."

"Certainly, sir."

He washed in the same brisk fashion, donning suitable clothes as well as the few weapons he was in the habit of carrying even during social gatherings. For the wedding it was oddly fitting since, historically, the best man was a talented swordsman tasked with protecting the ceremony from interruptions. While the role had become more symbolic than literal over the years, in light of the attack on one of his scouts, even a seeming animal attack, he would take any excuse to be armed. With a glance in the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair and left the room, retracing his path on the stairs and slipping into the library adjacent to the parlor. He took advantage of the decanter of whiskey on a shelf, pouring a couple small drinks before approaching the door and stepping surreptitiously inside.

Candles glowed everywhere, bouquets of herbs placed throughout the room, and a faint floral scent wafted on the air from the lily and rose petals carpeting the floor. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows, and the parlor was filled with the quiet murmur of conversation. On his way toward the altar he found his mother, and stopped long enough to lean down so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. Continuing his walk he perused the crowd, recognizing many faces and also noticing several that were unfamiliar. One woman with short, dark hair and a mole on her cheek chatted with Lord Hakuro, and on her other side sat an older gentleman who had steely, gray hair, a long face, and the Hawkeye crest tattooed on the back of his right hand. He briefly thought of the marked one from the seer's prediction, but quickly cleared his mind of it, as the Hawkeye tattoo did not match the mark he'd been shown in the slightest.

He was halfway to Maes when a well-known voice spoke from his left, one that made his gut clench. "Captain Mustang, I was hoping to see you again." Lady Silaris Morrow's pretty features and sultry voice had entranced him when he first heard it, at least until he recognized that her true nature was quite similar to that of a viper. "It's seems you've finally made it. Mother will be thrilled."

He forced an amicable grin onto his face even as the rest of him tensed; he always felt a touch hunted when speaking to her. "It's a pleasure to see you, Lady Morrow."

"How many times must I ask you to call me Lady Silaris? Really, we've known each other for some time," she replied, playfully running her fingers along his jacket lapel under the guise of flattening some invisible wrinkle. Her hair was dark as night and lustrous, hanging down to the middle of her back, and she wore a dress that gave everyone an unhindered view of her cleavage.

"Twice more at the very least, my lady." Searching the room, he found the back of Maes' head and hoped his friend would provide an escape, but sadly the man did not turn around.

"And _when_ will you come visit us in Aerugo? We had such a marvelous time during your last trip, but that was years ago." The woman attempted to wind her arm through his but he avoided it by reaching for his pocket watch to unnecessarily check the time.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure. My presence here is rather necessary, you understand."

"Oh, _naturally_. I'm sure Lord Hughes counts himself lucky to have a dedicated master-at-arms such as yourself."

"You're too kind, madame."

Thankfully another gentleman arrived, just in time to put an end to the short-lived and powerfully uncomfortable conversation. He was tall with lightly graying hair, an unsettling gaze, and military-style clothing, leading him to believe the soldier was part of the royal entourage. The individual gave a brief nod of the head to each of them and addressed Lady Morrow, "My apologies for the interruption, my lady, but your mother is asking for you."

"Why thank you, General Hearn." Lady Silaris graced him with another flirtatious smile, despite his clear disinterest. "Do excuse me, Captain."

"Of course." His grin of relief was magnificent as the woman walked away and then he sighed, eyeing his already much-depleted whiskey. He continued his walk and, reaching Maes' side, handed him the second glass as he quietly said, "What do you need Hughes? A strong drink? Or a horse with which to flee?"

"I'm perfectly fine without the horse, but I'll take the drink." he chuckled. "I _was_ wondering if I'd have to ask Lord Hakuro to act as best man." He lowered his voice. "What did you find?"

"Park dead. There were all the hallmarks of an animal attack...a wolf perhaps. There was a trail, but we found nothing." He paused. "Let me worry about that. You focus on marrying a charming woman."

"I'm sorry to hear the boy's dead." Hughes shook his head. "Does he have any family?"

"None of which I'm aware."

"We'll give him a soldier's send-off." The other man adjusted his jacket with a small sigh. "And I have to admit, I'm a bit relieved you didn't find more of our mercenary friends." Catching Roy's pointed look, he chuckled and added, "Right...forgetting it for now. You have the rings?"

"Of course. Just what sort of best man do you take me for?"

"The lax kind, clearly."

Just then the double doors opened briefly and a woman entered, presumably the maid-of-honor. She had fair hair, surprisingly short but still becoming, with a few locks falling across her forehead that looked almost like a bird's wing. Above her pert nose and curved lips were eyes of a soft, chestnut brown. He saw that midnight blue silk fell from her hips, draping gracefully to the floor, her neckline dipped tastefully in the front, and from the way the skirt moved against her he could tell there were not many layers beneath it. She paused on her way to the altar to take something from the older gentleman with the tattoo, and the pair shared a few words.

"Lady Hawkeye," Hughes leaned in to tell him, indicating with a glance the blonde he'd been watching.

When she neared them, she inclined her head toward them by way of greeting and, with a little smile, took up her place at the other side of the altar, at which point the doors opened again and all the guests rose. In the doorway stood Lord Traherne, and on his arm was a young woman in a steel blue gown with a bright smile and sandy brown hair. They strolled forward and the quiet chatter of the gathering fell away as they approached the altar, where the father placed a kiss on his daughter's forehead and took his seat. The maid of honor stepped forward, bound the couple's left hands together with a ribbon of blue silk, and the ceremony began.

* * *

As soon as they were pronounced husband and wife the couple kissed, both bride and groom gave blushing grins, and the entire room applauded while they strode down the aisle. Riza followed them, briefly taking the best man's arm until she broke away with the bride into the room across the hall from the parlor. There she took Gracia's bouquet and removed her veil while the best man left to usher the other guests down to the great hall for the reception. Leading her to a chair, she shifted her cousin's skirts and helped her take a seat, moving behind to fix any strands of hair that fell loose when the veil came off. Smiling, she put her hands on the other woman's shoulders and gave a light squeeze. "It was marvelous...and you're gorgeous."

Gracia nodded, an anxious laugh escaping her. "I thought I'd be less nervous after the ceremony."

"One step at a time. Now it's time to _mingle_."

"Yes, one thing at a time...one thing at a time." The other woman's lips curved again. "The best man is handsome. When he asks you to dance...and I do mean _when_...say yes." She held up a hand to prevent any attempts to protest. "I'm the bride, which means I give the orders today."

Riza chuckled. "Very well. _If_ he asks me." She helped her friend stand once more and took her hand. "Ready?" At Gracia's nod of ascent she stepped out of the room and gave the man waiting there a smile. "She awaits her escort, Lord Hughes."

"Thank you," he replied, slipping into the room she'd just vacated.

She started down the passageway, enjoying the brief silence, her fingers running over the silk of her dress as she walked. A smile formed when she thought of the new Lady Hughes and her husband. Their temperaments were actually quite compatible, so much so that the couple had stayed in the kitchens talking for more than two hours the night before. Her cousin had been unable to wipe the grin from her face as she recounted some of the stories he'd told, or that she thought he had kind eyes. The latter detail in particular had arrested her attention, reminding her of a conversation she'd had with her mother years ago. Ellie had said that she knew the moment she met Berthold Hawkeye that she'd marry him because of his warm eyes; these days they showed fatigue more often than not.

Riza was not able to be lost in thought for long and, seeing her great-uncle a short distance ahead, she greeted him with a half-hug and a smile. "It was kind of you to wait for me, Uncle Cavan. It's been far too long. How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you. How could I not be on such an occasion?" Lord Cavan Traherne's hair was a deep mahogany, with some pleasant graying at the temples, and his astute gaze hinted at his exceptional intelligence. He stood at least a foot taller than most, a fact which he often used to his advantage in political dealings, and the white scar on his cheek was evidence of his time spent in battle. "And the ceremony was exquisite, especially considering the short notice. I shall have to pay my compliments to my new son-in-law."

"It was, I agree." She took a surreptitious look around the verify they were alone. "If you do not mind my asking, uncle, why the rush? An abrupt ceremony, far from the capital...it makes one wonder."

"It's unconventional, I know." He slowed their pace down the passage, giving them more time to speak privately. "Gracia has been betrothed to Lord Hughes for several months. I would've liked to draw out the process, but King Felipe has been searching for a young noblewoman to marry off to a Drachman noble. He hopes to forge an alliance." He paused. "I refused to let him use my daughter in such a fruitless attempt to avoid war when conflict with King Anton is inevitable."

"That was no small risk."

He laughed quietly. "Yes, I imagine King Felipe will be displeased...but he will be unable to do anything."

When they were still a few meters from the dining hall she lowered her voice. "I should warn you while I have the chance. Tucker is on the move...I saw him myself in Northern Amestris."

"When?"

"Just over a week ago."

He was silent for a moment, and slowly let out a breath. "I was under the impression he'd been imprisoned in Aerugo six years ago."

They passed into the dining hall and she continued to speak softly, letting her voice be overshadowed by others to avoid unwanted eavesdroppers. "As were we all, and I thought you should know he'd resurfaced."

"This is troubling indeed. I can't imagine how his release was negotiated." As they strode further into the room, he noticed the glare his own sister directed at his grand-niece and subsequently changed the subject. "Althea is on the warpath as usual, I see."

Riza lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray, catching her grandmother's eye and immediately wondering where she might find a stronger beverage. "Yes...I've upset her. Tell me...have she and my grandfather always hated each other? Or did their mutual scorn kindly wait to develop during my lifetime?"

Traherne chuckled. "They were never fond of each other, and then their betrothal was arranged." He patted her hand. "Take heart...mine and Althea's parents were _much_ worse."

"That's a terrifying thought."

His response to her sardonic comment was an appreciative grin. "If you'll excuse me, I've pressing business with Lord Hakuro."

"Of course." She gave a little wave when Lady Hakuro saw her and then spotted a bar across the room, wandering through the crowd in its direction. The great hall had been beautifully decorated for the occasion, with more flower petals covering the floor and candles glittering in chandeliers. The rumble of conversation was everywhere, and not far away she could hear string instruments being tuned and readied. She shared another small wave with her grandfather before finally reaching the bar, sliding her champagne across the top, and asking, "Nicholas...would you kindly exchange _this_ for a glass of something stronger?"

"Certainly, milady," the bartender nodded with a pleasant grin. The man was barely taller than herself, with a cheerful face and long auburn hair that he kept tied out of his face with a strip of cloth.

Riza partially turned to observe the room while she waited, having caught the barman in the middle of filling more champagne flutes for the toast that would take place when the bride and groom appeared. She saw the best man stroll through the doorway, a woman she recognized as Lady Silaris Morrow clinging to his arm and reaching toward his temple, seemingly to brush hair out of his eyes. He quickly gripped her fingers and kissed the back of her hand before excusing himself to stride purposefully up to the bar. "Whiskey, please, Nicholas."

Accepting her tequila and thinking he could use a distraction, she leaned toward the man and said, with a little smirk, "I believe she fancies you, my lord." Her brow furrowed slightly when she noticed that Lady Silaris continued to watch him intently for several seconds until someone spoke to her, at which point her expression returned to its usual coquettish simper.

He chuckled wryly, glancing back at the woman in question and downing his beverage smoothly. "I believe she fancies anyone with a pulse who may have two coins to rub together."

Laughing, she took another sip, appreciating the altogether inappropriate remark. "I'm not sure the pulse is a requirement."

"You may be correct." He chuckled, watching her curiously with a slight crinkling about the eyes that enhanced his expression.

Holding her hand out to shake his she added, "Lady Riza Hawkeye."

He took her hand with a smile. "Roy Mustang, master-at-arms of Lochstone...everyone calls me Captain."

"I'm delighted to officially meet you, Captain. However, in the interest of honesty I must say I already knew your identity. Lord Hughes speaks very highly of you."

"Which means he told you every embarrassing story he could recall." He held up his glass to request another drink.

"Not at all." She paused, biting her lip to hold back a smile. "Well...perhaps one." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "Did you honestly take a wintry swim in the lake, in front of your men, wearing only a pink dressing gown?"

"That is a _horrid_ lie. It was an excellent shade of blue. Cerulean, I think." He shook his head. "Hughes always gets the details wrong."

She laughed once more. "And what in Xerxes was your motivation?"

"A wager is a wager, Lady Hawkeye. My men need to know I'm a man of my word." He tilted his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there some social rule that says we ought to be introduced by a third party?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure my grandfather would be happy to claim he did us the honor."

"And who might your grandfather be?"

"The oldest man in the room," she replied with a wink.

"I _heard_ that, young lady," a voice commented, and it turned out to be the steely-haired gentleman he'd noticed earlier.

"That would be why I said it." She gestured toward the new arrival. "Lord Walter Grumman, meet Captain Roy Mustang. Captain...my grandfather."

"Wonderful to meet you, Captain." The men shook hands and Grumman had a knowing expression on his face. "I knew _your_ grandfather, I believe."

"I wouldn't doubt it, sir. I never met the man but I hear I look a good deal like him...he died in the Xingese-Amestrian war." After a moment he added, "And he was quite the bastard, so I suppose I take after him in that respect as well."

She chuckled, negating the declaration with a shake of her head. "You're much friendlier than most bastards I've met."

"But you've not known me long, my lady."

"Quite true, Captain. Five minutes is not long, but I'm an excellent judge of character. My instincts are almost never wrong."

" _Almost_...which means you've been wrong before," he rejoined with a grin.

"Yes, twice, I believe." She smirked, sipping her Cretan tequila.

"Only twice? That's strangely specific."

"It's happened so few times I remember them vividly."

"Then they were traumatic experiences?"

"I suppose you could say that." Her eyes momentarily traveled from the black hair that fell over his eyes to his jawline.

When cheers rose among the crowd, they each looked toward the door, raising their glasses reflexively and reciting with the other guests as the toast began. "Spirits of hope, give them love and fidelity...spirits of life, give them comfort...spirits of earth, make their lands fruitful...spirits of tide, give them years of happiness."

The tinkle of glass followed the recitation and, just after they all drank, the best man offered her his arm. "Would you allow me the pleasure of escorting you to dinner, Lady Hawkeye?"

"Yes, thank you." She took her grandfather's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Do excuse us."

Grumman nodded. "Of course. I have to find Althea, anyway."

As they walked away, Mustang conversationally said, "I apologize that we were not introduced earlier. I fear my late arrival prohibited such an opportunity."

"Quite alright, Captain. I hope nothing terrible kept you away."

"Nothing good, I'm afraid, but it's not a suitable topic for this happy occasion." When they reached her seat he asked, "Might I have the honor of a dance later?"

She considered him for a moment, thinking that Gracia would never let her live it down. "Yes, that would be lovely."

* * *

Much later that evening Riza sat at the banquet table, happily observing the party and pleasantly warm from the other round of Cretan tequila she was sipping. The feast had been set to one side of the sizable hall, freeing plenty of space for a dance floor lined by chatting guests. The string quartet played an alluring ballad, and servants continually brought around trays laden with cakes, darioles, fresh fruit with honey, or drinks. The best man catching her eye with a meaningful look, she rose and wove through the crowd until she reached Gracia. With a hand on her arm she said, "It's time, Lady Hughes."

Her cousin nodded apprehensively and took her arm, allowing her to lead them from the room and up the stairs. The groom followed not far behind, and once they were safely in the bride's quarters her eyes widened. "I'm entirely too anxious."

She removed the other woman's veil, draping it over the back of a chair and unfastening the buttons down her back. "It'll be alright. Lord Hughes is an absolute gentleman...I'm sure he won't ask you to do anything _too_ unseemly."

" _Riza_ ," Gracia replied with an embarrassed laugh. "You're terrible."

"I respectfully disagree." She helped her cousin slip out of the wedding frock, hanging it gently and holding out a dressing gown for her to wear. Letting down her hair, she loosened it slightly from the ringlets and slid a sheer robe over her shoulders.

As they walked toward the door connecting her rooms with her husband's, the new Lady Hughes paused, somewhat flustered. Riza took her friend's hands before pulling her in for a hug. "Don't be frightened. We've talked about it...fucking _Xerxes_ , can you imagine how quickly Althea would've fainted if she heard that conversation?"

Gracia chuckled again, and the sound was a touch less tense. "How true that is." She squeezed her hands. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yes, of course." She placed a kiss on her cousin's cheek and gave her a reassuring smile as she watched her walk through the door. For a short time after she moseyed about the room, putting away shoes, hanging the veil, and picking up in general while she waited, just in case her friend came back.

After what she deemed a suitable amount of time, she exited Gracia's quarters and started down the hall, glancing cautiously around before slipping into the systems of servants' passages that wound throughout Lochstone. They were not as brightly lit as the other halls, but were still clean and dry, as well as unattended given the hour. She easily found the entrance she sought, stepping into the doorwell to conceal herself from potential prying eyes further down the walkway. From beyond the thick door she heard voices, one louder than the other, as if the first speaker were in the room and the second in the main corridor beyond. The speech tapered off, followed by a dull thud, and she waited several seconds before knocking lightly.

There was brief period of silence, and when the door finally swung open she grinned at the ebony-eyed man who took her hand and pulled her across the threshold. " _What_ are you doing here?" he asked with a smile, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip before covering her mouth with his and locking the door with his other hand.

He pressed her up against the wall and she unbuttoned his jacket, one hand moving up to the side of his face. "I wanted to see you." She kissed him, gently shoving him further into the room and slipping off her shoes. "We were convincing tonight, I believe."

She pushed his shirt aside and he took it off, dropping it to the floor along with his vest and running the fingers of one hand up her neck. Voice slightly deeper, he said, "I was rather proud of our performance."

He loosened her dress and watched it slide from her shoulders, silk gliding to the floor, eyed her legs as she stepped out of it. They fell onto the bed together and she grazed her lips over his stomach, moving up his body while his warm hands followed her thighs to her hips. Leaning on an elbow, she trailed a hand across his chest and gave him a light kiss. "You're not _always_ a bastard." With a chuckle he gripped her waist, pulling her against him, and a laugh escaped her as he rolled them over.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a good one!


	5. An Unexpected Departure

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! Quick note...One of my lovely readers requested a small list of original characters for reference, which can be found at the end of this chapter. I've tried to at least include all the original characters that appear or are mentioned in this chapter, but if I've missed any please let me know. I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

* * *

 **An Unexpected Departure**

Riza lay awake in the warmth of his bed, enjoying a few stolen instants of serenity while the firelight danced beyond her eyelids. His skin was soft where his hand rested on her thigh, his breathing rhythmic, and she ran a hand over his stomach, taking note of the now familiar scars. She loved waking next to him, relished those moments when they could be together, before she'd have to sneak away to her rooms and they were forced to return to their normal lives. Whenever they met she dreaded having to leave him and, with each passing day, grew tired of the weeks of silence between reunions.

Gentleman that he was, Roy had been the one to suggest keeping the relationship secret in order to protect her reputation, that ever-valuable esteem that was so important in polite society. She was grateful for that consideration, but more often of late wondered why his position mattered when she was wealthy enough for the both of them. With every tryst the desire to ask him to join her at Dunairne strengthened, but a strange uncertainty stayed her tongue. There were still important aspects of her life of which he was ignorant and, though she both trusted him completely and loathed hiding such things from him, part of her feared his reaction.

Attempting to set aside such musings, her fingers idly traced the slim scar stretching from his shoulder up to the base of his neck and, not for the first time, she wondered at its origin. He'd told her he fought in the Aerugonian conflict, but that his squadron had been located far from the heat of battle. She believed him, of course, yet the scar forced her to question whether there might be more to the story, and she feared he'd been taken captive at some point.

Roy gently took her hand, grazing his lips over her palm, and when he spoke his breath tickled her skin. "You're astoundingly beautiful, for the record."

She twined her fingers with his. "Thank you. I thought you might like that dress."

"Yes...I remember thinking how excellent it would look on my floor." He threw a playful glance at the garment. "And so it does."

Riza laughed, leaning over to kiss his chest. "I'm sorry I missed our last rendezvous."

"No apology necessary." He lightly grazed his thumb over her cheek. "I was just relieved to see you're alright. When I received no message I..."

She nodded, hating the fact that, once again, she had to lie to him. "I know...I'm afraid I was unable to send one. I was visiting the Armstrongs in Western Amestris and there was an attack on the road that led to Creta. You might've heard of it. We were confined to the stronghold until they were certain all was safe." She smirked briefly when a thought occurred to her. "On another note, I believe your mother hates me."

He shook his head. "She will come to love you. Trust me."

"When she met me she said, and I quote, 'Oh, hello, Lady Hawkeye. You look...healthy.'"

"Well, you _do_ look healthy." She gave his shoulder a shove and he laughed. "My mother speaks her mind."

"Then she and Althea will get on wonderfully."

"Yes, your grandmother fixed you with a few scowls this evening. What happened?"

"The usual nonsense."

"In other words, she remarked on your obligations as a noblewoman and then the conversation turned to your mother's death." At her nod Roy added, "I know Althea is difficult with you, but you're her only connection to her daughter. Perhaps that's why."

Her amused eyes met his dark ones. "Why do I tell you these things?"

"I believe it's because you adore me."

" _Adore_ might be rather strong." Her gaze narrowed mischievously, and she again changed the subject. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I arranged for Lady Silaris to disappear?"

"Cretan gods...is Riza Hawkeye jealous?" He grinned. "Far from disappointed, I'd be thrilled if her entire family left. They grate on my nerves."

"Then I shall see what I can do." With that she rolled out of bed and slipped on his robe, pacing slowly toward the fire and taking a sip from the glass of whiskey he'd poured earlier. Trailing a couple fingers along the stone mantel, she moved to stand near the open balcony to appraise the view. The sky was partially obscured by clouds, but when the stars were revealed they gleamed brightly. At the soft rustling behind her, she turned to see him extricate himself from the bedding, wrapping a sheet around his lower half and picking up the same glass she'd tasted moments before.

His quarters were sparse enough to be functional, but with a sufficient number of luxuries added to make it pleasant. His bed and wardrobe were sizable, crafted from a rich, dark wood, and the fireplace popped on the wall across from the door. In one corner was a writing desk, a few thick rugs covered the floor in convenient places, and before the hearth an armchair was positioned with a small table beside it. He took a seat and she walked leisurely toward him, the stone cold underfoot. "Your rooms are quite nice."

"Thank you...I do have excellent taste."

"You also have a high opinion of yourself." She joined him on the chair, straddling his lap and toying with the sheet around his waist, slipping her fingers along the edge. He slowly pushed the robe from her shoulders, bringing his lips to her exposed skin as he did. She leaned her forehead on his, reluctantly adding, "I should return to my quarters."

Roy gripped her waist in the most wonderful way. "How cruel you are. And after I've not seen you in a month."

"Just imagine the _scandal_ , Captain," she teased. "Cousin of the bride found in an indecorous state of undress in the company of reasonably attractive master-at-arms."

" _Reasonably_? Hardly...I'm, at the very least, extremely attractive."

"There's that high opinion again." Watching the flames reflected in his eyes, she pushed him back into the chair with her hand on his chest. "I suppose I could stay a little while longer." He kissed her in response, hands slipping beneath her robe.

* * *

It was much later than she'd intended when Riza brushed her lips over Roy's with a contented smile and slid carefully out of bed, dressing silently and raking a hand through pillow-mussed hair. Briefly perusing the clock on the mantel, she slipped into the servants' passages and hurried back to her rooms. With nearly each step she worried she might meet someone, and attempted to organize a few lies into one coherent justification for her presence. Fortunately, excepting two false alarms that caused her to hide in a darkened doorway, her trip was uneventful.

The very instant she stepped into her quarters she heard a mocking, " _Late_ ," from where Maria lounged before the fire, legs thrown over an arm of the chair in cavalier fashion.

"Thank you for the incredibly useful observation," she replied with good-natured sarcasm, hastily exchanging her gown for trousers, a comfortable shirt, and a leather jacket.

"Your facetious comments are always more frequent after your dalliances with the Captain. I wonder why that is," the brunette joked.

"Because I'm in such an excellent mood." Riza pointed with a newly gloved hand. "That time I was serious."

Her friend chuckled, twisting in the seat to bring her feet to the floor. "I noticed, but thank you for the assistance."

"I know you have difficulties reading social cues on occasion."

"I believe you're applying your own shortcomings to me now." The other woman paused, watching her a bit more seriously. "You were aware I knew of your relationship with Captain Mustang?"

"Of course you knew." Slipping her knives into their sheathes, she closed her trunk. "I'd have been terribly disappointed had you not, for then you wouldn't be the bright seer I thought you were."

"I'm so pleased I've managed to live up to your expectations." Maria eyed all the weapons with incredulity. "We're only sparring, and not far from the castle, I might add."

"I like to be prepared," she replied, pressing an ear to the servants' door in an effort to determine if anyone was nearby. "I don't hear..."

"Someone's coming," Maria abruptly said, her eyes clouded over.

Riza shared a curious look with the seer, followed a few seconds later by the knock that came at the main entrance to her rooms. After another pair of impatient thuds she said, "Just a moment," and hurriedly threw a robe on over her clothes, tossing the brunette a blanket to hide her sparring attire. When she opened the door, the soldier on the other side immediately bowed. "My lady...I apologize for the interruption, but Lord Traherne has asked to speak with you."

Her eyes grew wide in surprise. "Of course. Give me a minute to dress." She pushed the door closed and, with another bewildered glance at her friend, replaced her robe with a longer riding coat, lacking the time to change out of her trousers. Joining the soldier in the hall, she followed him to the first floor at a rapid pace, trying in vain to think of a topic so urgent that her uncle would a summon her in the dead of night. They soon reached the bailey where, to her utter astonishment, Lord Traherne and his men were preparing their horses for departure. As her guide led her through the chaos she caught sight of Roy, who must have been notified of all the activity shortly after she left, and he gave her a questioning look. She could only shrug.

"Good, you're here." Lord Traherne drew her attention away from the master-at-arms, placing a hand at her elbow to direct her to a spot further removed from the gathered soldiers. Before she could make any inquiries, he handed her a letter and said, "I know what you are."

She stared for several seconds, and then lowered her voice. "Excuse me?"

"I haven't time to argue. A man matching General Fu's description has been seen in Drachma...moving south. And the second fragment is vulnerable."

"Forgive me, uncle, but what in _Xerxes_ are you talking about?"

"Protect it...and my daughter. Please," he implored rather than answer her question, jumping into the saddle. He conveyed his farewells with only a nod, waved to his men, and raced out of the yard, two columns of riders following closely behind.

Riza watched as he disappeared through the gates, her fixed expression of confusion reflecting the muddled state of her thoughts. The Drachman General Fu was even more feared than the Mad King Anton himself, and the news that he might be on the move was certainly vexing, doubly so considering how recently she'd seen Tucker, but the other half of Cavan's message remained a mystery. Try as she might, she could not determine what the 'second fragment' was, nor the object of which it might constitute a component. Her eyes were still following the retreating forms, her mind racing, when she felt the light brush of a shoulder on hers as someone came to stand beside her. Glancing to her right, she said, "Captain."

"My lady." He inclined his head. "May I escort you inside?"

"Yes, thank you." She took his arm. "It's quite odd for Lord Traherne to leave so suddenly. Were you informed of the reason?"

"A dangerous man has been sighted, and I believe King Felipe ordered him to the border to fortify our position there." He paused until they had sufficiently distanced themselves from the individuals still milling about the bailey, holding the door open for her as they entered the keep. "I would've thought that was his reason for wishing to speak with you."

She exhaled, relieved that he'd been informed of Fu's movements. "He gave me a letter to pass on to Lady Gracia."

They strolled slowly along the darkened, the shadows having grown as candles burned low, and his mien turned curious when he noticed her relatively unusual clothing. "Are you planning to disappear as well?"

"No. Maria and I enjoy the occasional midnight ride…we'd discussed a short excursion to the lake." As she finished, he unexpectedly grabbed her hand and pulled her through a nearby door, which turned out to lead to a small library. "What's the matter?"

The lock in the door clicked home and his grip on her tightened minutely, his other hand rising to the side of her face. "Swear to me you'll not leave the castle unaccompanied...especially at night." She had never seen such disquiet in his eyes.

"We'd have taken Captain Stevens, of course. And Lochstone's lands are safe...your men have seen to that." She gave him a reassuring grin, placing a hand lightly on his chest. "I never knew you were such a worrier."

His voice turned even more serious, as though he did not appreciate that fact she tried to make light of the situation. "It's dangerous, Riza. Three weeks ago we discovered mercenaries roving the countryside, and just yesterday one of my own men was found dead a few miles away. Not to mention these rumors of Drachmans floating around." He paused, giving her a meaningful look. "I'm only asking that you be cautious."

"Very well." She held up her hands as if in surrender. "I won't venture outside the walls alone." After a moment, realizing he still watched her expectantly, she added, " _I promise_."

"Thank you." He visibly relaxed, and then checked his pocket watch. "Can you find your way from here? I need to take care of a few things since Hughes is...otherwise occupied."

"Yes." She pulled him in for a kiss and then left, her lips quirking when she heard the door creak open again after she'd turned a corner. Once back in her rooms she strode toward the chair where Maria still sat, tossing her jacket on the back of the sofa. Leaning over a table, she scrawled a rushed message in order to pass along everything Traherne and Roy had told her. " _Mercs_ ….in Creta. Fucking Xerxes."

"Good heavens...what's going on?" the seer asked, rising to her feet.

"Drachmans _and_ mercenaries on the move, that's what." Riza folded the note and handed it to the other woman. "And Roy said one of his men was discovered dead nearby. This cannot be pure happenstance."

"I heard some of the servants talking about an attack on one of the scouts. Word is it was a wolf."

"Still, it seems too coincidental. Have Stevens take this to father himself, but not before he learns what specifics he can about those mercenaries."

"Of course," the brunette replied. "I'll brief Stevens on the other seer as well."

"Thank you. When you've finished retire to your chambers...we'll spar another night. We should probably keep our creeping around the castle to a minimum." After the other woman left she fell bewildered into a seat and muttered, "What the hell is happening?"

* * *

Roy walked purposefully through the halls of Lochstone early the next morning after managing to steal only a few hours' rest. The sky outside was beginning to lighten, sending soft tendrils of morning light through the slim, rectangular stained-glass windows intended to double as archeres if the keep were ever under siege. The castle began to wake, a few servants making their way down to the kitchens or climbing the stairs to rouse their employers, but he was distracted.

Only twenty-five minutes had passed since Lord Traherne's peculiar exit the night before when a pair of Traherne messengers were discovered lying prone in a clearing. Three sets of tracks had led away from the site, along one of which he found blood on a few plants, but then the red spatters stopped. Another trail went north, and yet another to the southwest, and he sent scouts to follow each of them. _Someone_ had walked away from that fight.

This added to his already heightened unease caused by his dreams of the rose and vines that were meant to identify the marked one, as though the seer's vision refused to let itself be forgotten. Upon waking that morning, the image once again fresh in his mind, he'd begrudgingly resolved to broach the topic of his father with his mother. In that way, he could determine whether or not the seer's claims had merit without having to mention roses and marked people, which he was still exasperatingly far from being able to explain.

With a perfunctory knock he entered Hughes' study, helping himself to the tea laid out on the table and a book from one of the shelves. He hardly had time to read the first couple lines, however, before the door swung open again and Maes joined him at the table, his manner even more chipper than usual. "News?"

"Traherne is gone, two of his messenger's were attacked last night on the way to the Capital, and the scouts found nothing. One trail did eventually lead back to Lochstone, but it was lost. Even Fuery couldn't find it."

The other man's hand paused midway through putting jam on toast. "Lord Traherne _left_? You're joking."

"Not a joke. He's gone to the Drachman border." Roy leaned forward, taking a drink of his tea. "Both Park and the Traherne messenger showed signs of having been mauled by a wolf, but we've seen no evidence that a pack is roaming the area. This may sound crazy, but I think we may be dealing with a gifted individual capable of turning into an animal."

"That's incredibly rare. I've only ever heard of one case in which a similar gift was confirmed."

"Rare is not impossible, my friend."

"True." His friend chuckled wryly. "This situation gets better every day."

"I've one piece of positive news. One Traherne messenger is still alive...his injuries are severe, but the healers have already done their work. We just have to wait for him to wake." He paused, closing the book he'd been skimming. "Will Lord MacMillan retaliate against Bristow for the attacks on his villages?"

Hughes shook his head. "I explained what we learned, that they were mercenaries. He's convinced for now, but if any more attacks take place..." He exhaled. "We may not be able to persuade everyone. Lords don't like to appear ineffectual." Plucking a few grapes he added, "On an unrelated note...I'm taking my wife on a tour of the castle and grounds. I'd like you to join us."

Roy broke off part of a croissant. "In light of recent events, I highly recommend avoiding excursions."

"Yes, yes...and now my father-in-law has left suddenly, which does trouble me." His friend paused. "But the new Lady Hughes deserves a proper introduction to her new home."

He gave a nod of understanding. "You wish to behave as a normal host would...in order to avoid inciting concern in your guests."

"Indeed. We'll keep close to the castle...with Lady Hughes I'll take no chances. I'm sure it's nothing Il Rogo cannot handle."

"Of course, my lord. I'll fill the forest with patrols as a safeguard." Roy set his serviette on the table and stood. "I'd also like to respectfully request the use of that title be kept to a minimum while our guests are here. My mother doesn't know the extent of my involvement in the war, and I'd like it to remain so."

Maes considered him with curious eyes, taking a bite of toast as they left the room, his mouth curving into one of his tiresome knowing smiles. "It's not your mother that concerns you...she's been here for days." There was another moment of silence. "It's your lady friend from the Rose, isn't it? She's here...and she doesn't know. Intriguing." His expression turned stern. "Please tell me she's not married...Lord Hakuro would kill you if you slept with his wife."

"It's _not_ Lady Hakuro...and keep quiet. Her husband would kill a man over just the rumor."

"Idiot." He then felt a sharp tap and his head lurched forward. "It's Lady Silaris."

"Did you just _smack_ me?" Roy asked in disbelief, lifting a hand to the offended area as they passed through the main floor and out into the yard.

"I swear, if it's her, I'll lock you up myself until you regain your faculties."

He laughed as they strode across the yard at a contained but hurried pace. "It's not Lady Silaris, I promise you. Aside from that, I'll say nothing more at this time."

"I _knew_ she was a noblewoman...be careful. And please set my mind at ease by confirming that she's unwed."

"Yes, Maes. Officially she is unattached."

"Oh, _officially_...I see. But _unofficially_ you two are an item. It's about more than the bedroom, is that it?"

"Do you intend to torture me for the duration of this little expedition?"

"I planned for approximately half the time, truth be known."

Roy let escape a derisive snort to express his opinion of that declaration, and then eyed the gathering of horses they approached. He saw Breda and Fuery preparing a few mounts, but absent were the other wedding guests he had expected. Briefly pulling the former aside, he ordered the man to organize the patrols that would be sweeping the forest and, turning back to his friend he commented, "I thought there would be more joining your party."

"As did I."

"I confess that's my doing," a woman interjected, the new lady of the stronghold stepping around one of the horses.

"Lady Hughes," Roy quickly greeted with a polite bow. "Good morning."

"Good morning and, please, call me Lady Gracia. This abundance of Cretan pleasantries could very well drive me to madness."

"As you wish, Lady Gracia," he replied, taking Mercedes' reigns and checking the saddle to verify it had been secured properly.

Lady Hughes flushed as her husband kissed her hand, the bloom rising from her neck to her cheeks. "I may have organized a few card tables in the parlor for the other guests before finding a reason to be called away."

"Conniving," Maes opined. "Yet incredibly charming."

"Yes, well, I needed a few moments of peace."

"And I suppose that's why you've drawn me into your game of avoidance," another voice said, and Roy smiled when he recognized it, thinking that the day might take a more enjoyable turn. Riza strolled toward them in riding garb, leading her blue roan Max and wearing a sardonic expression.

"Yes, cousin. It'd be most improper of me to spend the entire day in the company of soldiers, handsome and gentile though they may be." This last was accompanied by a cheeky wink. "Thus, I'm forcing you to join us. Though, it merits mentioning that the required persuasion was minimal."

"It was." Riza shot him a small, private smirk which soon vanished.

"Shall we?" Hughes cheerfully asked. There were nods all around and they climbed into their respective saddles, exiting through the gates at a leisurely pace. They curved around to the west, first following the treeline before entering the woods to escape the bustle of the castle, though they stayed close enough for a quick return should it be necessary. The sunlight was growing brighter and, as they ventured further into the forest, all sounds of the stronghold died away.

They made a slow circuit of the lands surrounding Lochstone, with Hughes periodically pointing out landmarks of interest: the mountain where one of his ancestors was reportedly struck by lightening, and the cluster of hills under which ran tunnels connected to the keep's lower levels. The conversation was merry, and Roy could not keep his gaze from finding Riza more frequently than it should. His lips curved when she laughed in response to one of Maes' jokes, and his ruminations turned to their relationship. He'd first met her late one evening after Sheska's birthday celebration at The Stone Rose, when he'd walked into the kitchen at an obscenely late hour, only to find her washing dishes and chatting with Izumi. He'd asked asked for a cup of tea, and ended up talking with them for more than an hour, curiosity undeniably piqued by the unusual noblewoman.

He ran into her sporadically at The Rose over the following months, and then they began planning the encounters, each sparing an evening or two whenever they could. He looked forward to their time together for many reasons, in addition to the obvious physical benefits, but he wondered how long they could continue that arrangement. He was no simpleton. She was from a wealthy family, one related to the King of Creta for Xerxes' sake, and he was a displaced nobleman working as a master-at-arms with only a meager fortune to his name. One day she would marry someone else, and some time ago he'd realized that thought bothered him immensely.

Following the lap around the walls, Hughes led the group on a tour of the bailey, stopping to introduce his wife to a few of the men. When they finally reached the oft-used archery range, Lady Hughes stopped next to the table with a pleased smile, running her hand over one of the bows laid there. Several targets had been positioned at varying distances from the shooting line, and numerous arrows had been made available. "Is this your doing?" she asked her husband.

"I was told you enjoy archery." Maes gave him a grateful nod before joining her at the table to sift through the options. Roy had shared with his friend the Lady Gracia's preference for the sport, though he'd left out the fact that a certain blonde had mentioned it to him during one of their nights at The Rose, while she had been wrapped enticingly in his sheets.

"This was quite thoughtful, Captain," Riza softly said, coming to stand beside him as they observed the cheerful newlyweds.

"Thank you, my lady. I merely thought her ladyship might enjoy a touch of familiarity in her knew home." Before them Lady Hughes deftly nocked an arrow and drew back the bow string, the smooth motion making it clear she was well-practiced in the art. When the released arrow soon punctured the target just outside the central circle, he knew she was even more skilled than some lords he knew.

Applauding her cousin's shot, the blonde moved closer to him. "I'm certain she does...it's never easy leaving home." She glanced around, ensuring no one stood within ear shot. "Is something on your mind? You seemed distracted earlier."

"Absolutely," he replied, lowering his voice. "Simply enjoying the morning." He left the _with you_ portion of his response unspoken, but by the curve of her lips guessed she picked up on it.

"I wonder, Captain, would you consent to a ride with me one of these mornings? I'd very much like to see the lake but, with Captain Stevens gone, I lack an escort. And I was warned not to venture beyond the walls on my own."

"It would be my pleasure, of course, but..." He took another cautious look around them. "...but what about..."

"Let them see," she interrupted.

"Ri..." he started to say, but then his mother's voice cut him off.

" _There_ you are, dear." Lenora was coming across the yard with the younger Lady Morrow on her arm, shawls and skirts blowing in the breeze. "Would you be so kind as to walk with us, darling? Poor Silaris has had a bit of a fainting spell, and we decided fresh air would do her good, but General Hearn was playing cards."

"I'd be happy to, if Lady Hawkeye will excuse me."

"Certainly." Her countenance was amiable, but he could hear the note of disappointment in her voice to which others were deaf. "And I do hope you feel better, Lady Morrow."

"I'm sure I soon will," Lady Silaris responded with her usual simper, taking his right arm while his mother took the other.

Roy shared one more quick glance with Hawkeye before leading the ladies toward the nearest set of stairs which led to the ramparts. While the two women he accompanied began to chat, his thoughts remained with the blonde with whom he'd just parted ways. She had not been easily persuaded when he argued that they should keep their association a secret, but he'd insisted, thinking it was the best course of action. Naturally, at the time he'd been unaware of just how much he would dislike the formality they'd be forced to employ in public as a result. It was rather excruciating pretending to be mere acquaintances when, in reality, he knew that she liked her tea strong, that the tune she'd often hum absentmindedly was something her mother wrote, and that a kiss to her inner thigh would elicit the sexiest little laugh. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing his own circumstances were more advantageous, such that a connection to him would not be considered unacceptable.

"Don't you agree, darling?"

His mother's query effectively ended his reverie and, not having the slightest idea what had been said, he replied, "My apologies mother, my mind was elsewhere."

"I was just remarking on Lady Hughes' and her cousin's wildly inappropriate dress. A lady wearing trousers, and sitting astride a horse...my mother would have boxed my ears had I ever attempted such a thing."

"Oh I quite agree," Lady Morrow chimed in from his right. "I'm rather old fashioned, I'll admit, but I believe a lady should leave _something_ to the imagination."

"I see nothing wrong with it, and I imagine it makes riding much more comfortable." He did his utmost to refrain from laughing at the hypocrisy of Silaris' statement, considering that the gown she'd worn the previous evening left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"Speaking of Lady Hawkeye," the younger woman continued. "Do you know anything of her? Mother was curious...is she gifted?"

"I don't believe anyone in her family is, and she's already in her twenty-sixth year, the poor dear," Lenora replied. "She is so little-known but, the way Lord Hakuro tells it, she's an exemplary young woman in every way. I, for one, couldn't say why."

"Perhaps she hopes to become the next Lady Hakuro when his poor wife succumbs to that illness of hers. What is it she…?"

Roy fought back a heavy exhalation as they strode along the ramparts, his mother and her friend continuing their gossip while he provided the occasional non-committal interjection. He did love his mother deeply, but her propensity for speaking ill of others was more than slightly irritating, and especially-so in this instance given the fact he knew she wished to push him toward Lady Silaris. There were times in societal gatherings that his mother seemed to morph into an entirely different person, far removed from the kind and compassionate woman he knew her to be.

They returned to the archery range just as Riza stepped up to shoot, biting her lip the way she often did when trying to hide her delight. She then lifted a weapon with a much greater tension in the string than a woman could generally fire, testing its weight in her left hand while sliding an arrow from the quiver with her right. He was just about to step forward and offer her an alternative when she nocked the arrow and drew it back effortlessly, the fletching caressing her cheek before she pulled a touch further. Her gaze was trained down-range, a calm on her face that he'd never before seen, and it was clear she was even more experienced than her cousin. If Lady Hughes had fired a thousand arrows in her life, Riza had fired at least ten times that. After more than a year he'd thought he knew her well, but there was clearly more to learn.

He saw her inhale and then exhale slowly, loosing three arrows in rapid succession, with a dexterity that would have rivaled and possibly exceeded his most skilled archers. The projectiles were clustered neatly in the center of the target and she turned, the bow still in her left hand with another arrow already nocked, cradled between her fingers as if she'd done it a million times. Applause went around the small group, and he was too distracted by his own amazement to notice the way his mother's lips pursed as she watched with an interest that bordered on suspicion.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day!

 **AN2:** Here is a little list of original characters along with a short description of who they are: Lord Cavan Traherne - Riza's great-uncle, Captain Stevens - works for Riza and her father, Lady Althea Grumman - Riza's maternal grandmother, Lady Lenora Mustang - Roy's mother, General Hearn - an acquaintance of Lady Silaris Morrow, The Morrow Family - friends of Lenora/relatives of Hughes, King Anton - the King of Drachma, Generals Fu and Tucker - men that work for Anton.


	6. Rediscovered Secrets

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope you've had a nice couple of weeks. Just a head's up, I'm going to try to have the next chapter up in two weeks, but I'm a little behind so it may be a bit longer. My only other note is that, as with the last post, a list of original characters can be found at the end of this one. And now on to the chapter...I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

 **Rediscovered Secrets**

Three nights later, Riza strolled through the darkened halls to her quarters, still able to feel the pressure of Roy's hand on her waist after all the dances they'd shared that evening and incapable of wiping the radiant grin from her face. Few times had she so enjoyed herself at a social gathering, and her happiness was such that even her grandmother's continued glowering did nothing to dampen it. It threatened to wane when Lady Silaris attached herself to the young Captain's arm, essentially forcing him to take a walk in the garden to avoid another of her 'fainting spells,' and at that point she briefly imagined landing a fist to the woman's jaw. That helped.

As expected, she was looking forward to her own departure from Lochstone with undeniable displeasure, since that meant their relationship would again be comprised of too-scarce nights at the Rose. More than anything, this visit had shown her that the status quo was no longer enough, and she was deliberating on how to best broach the subject with him when Lady Lenora Mustang, of all people, intercepted her, eyes blazing with irritation. "You _cannot_ be serious."

"Excuse me?" The older woman grasped her hand tightly, tearing the glove from her left arm, and then Riza yanked herself free. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

Lady Mustang shook her head curtly. "No matter...I know who you are." With an unanticipated ferocity, she added, "And you _will_ leave my son alone, or I'll ensure you regret it."

Taken aback, her jaw dropped. "Apologies, madame, but I fail to understand the cause of this ire. We _danced_."

"Yes, and you know very well how a dance looks to those watching, which is why I don't understand what you're on about."

"What I'm…? I'm not up to anything. The Captain is friendly, my time spent with him pleasant." Riza gave an exasperated shrug. "What's the great tragedy if..."

"I don't care to hear any story," Lady Mustang interrupted. "He's content here, protected, and I will not let you ruin his life."

"My lady, I truly have no idea what you're talking about, or what you think I'm after." She glanced to either side, lowering her voice. "But believe me when I say I'd never willfully bring your son to any harm. Whatever this is, it's a dreadful misunderstanding."

The woman seemed temporarily baffled, but then her face again turned austere. "You will not take him."

Lady Mustang turned away and Riza was left to lean against the wall wholly mystified, now torn glove dangling between her fingers. She stepped unhurriedly toward her rooms and, when she entered, dropped inattentively onto the settee, reclining in what Althea would call an unladylike manner. The room was dark, save for the orange glow of dying embers, and it had a relaxing effect on her suddenly ruffled emotions, yet she could not make sense of the conversation with Roy's mother. It was as if the woman honestly thought she was going to whisk her son away, which was especially puzzling considering they'd never told anyone they even knew each other. Of greater concern was the feeling she'd gotten that Lenora feared she might hurt him somehow, ruin his life. It was all quite unsettling.

On an impulse she stole down to the kitchens as she did the first night, and as she neared her destination the pleasant scent of something recently baked wafted on the air. When she reached the door she leaned against the frame to watch the woman at work, a nostalgic smile on her face. "I used to love baking bread with you and your mother."

Gracia looked up, wisps of light-brown hair escaping the braid that hung over one shoulder. "Those mornings were my favorite. We'd be covered in flour after ten minutes."

"I don't know how she put up with us. She was amazing." Riza's sidled up to the counter, tasting the batter left over from a cake cooling on the table. "You _are_ aware it's the middle of the night."

"Yes," she chuckled. "I asked them to keep the outdoor oven fired for a little while, and now I've starting working on a few loaves of bread. I'm convinced the cook thinks me insane."

"They've never met a noblewoman that likes to bake?"

"I think not." The other woman went back to the dough she'd been preparing. "Something on your mind?"

"Not at all," she fibbed, shaking her head and scraping another spoonful of batter from the sides of the bowl. "I wasn't feeling very tired and thought I might find you here."

"Your dance card was quite full this evening." Lady Hughes paused to lean forward, her expression sly. "Filled with Captain Mustang's name, clearly." When Riza made no reply her friend rolled a ball of dough toward her. "Fine. Keep your secrets, but also knead. It's therapeutic."

With less reluctance than she'd admit, she lightly floured her hands along with the wooden board and did as requested. Wavering a moment, she ultimately decided to ask, "Gracia, does the phrase 'second fragment' mean anything to you?"

Her cousin's hands stilled and she leaned briefly on the counter, gaze drifting thoughtfully. "No, should it?"

"It's something Uncle Cavan said to me before he left, and I hoped you might know what he meant."

"I don't, I'm sorry. I wonder what he could have been talking about."

Snatching her friend's wine glass Riza took a sip and gave a dismissive wave, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." She folded the dough over yet again and pushed it down with the heel of her hand, realizing that the effort had indeed relieved the tension she'd felt after her interaction with Lady Mustang. Their comfortable conversation continued for some time, and eventually her thoughts returned to the evening she'd spent with Roy, which lifted her mood significantly. By the time she retraced the path to her quarters an hour later, she was once more feeling optimistic.

* * *

The following morning dawned bright, the cold jolting Riza awake better than a strong cup of tea as she made her way across the yard toward the stables. Despite the late hour at which she retired, she'd risen much earlier than any other guest, and received more than a few inquisitive looks from guards and castle staff that she passed. She pensively toyed with the riding crop in one hand, twirling it between her fingers as she walked, wondering if winter had finally arrived based on the chilly breeze coming from the north. Her breath came out in a little puff of mist, and she could even see a few snow flakes drifting to the ground. She'd always enjoyed the cooler months, loved the crisp, frigid air that somehow brought the world into sharper focus.

The stables were largely empty since many of the hunters had already left for the day, and no doubt there were patrols sweeping the forest. Her spirits were further lifted when she saw Roy fitting a saddle on his mare's back, and she slowed as she neared him. "You appear deep in thought, Captain."

He looked over sharply, as if he had not heard her approach, and then his mien brightened. "I couldn't ask for a more welcome interruption, my lady."

In spite of the cold she felt her cheeks warm at the compliment as she moved toward Max's stall. "I'd wondered if you might take that ride with me...I don't recall a refusal."

"As it happens, my morning is completely clear." He took Mercedes' reins and reached into the stall beside him, from which her roan walked a moment later, already brushed and saddled. "I have Breda managing things at the moment."

A grin threatened to overrun her features yet again and, stepping forward, she accepted Max's reins, briefly taking his hand. "You're sure?"

"I know it's only been a few days, but the hiding has been making me crazy." He pulled her glove down slightly to place a light kiss on her sensitive inner wrist before climbing into the saddle. "Shall we?"

Riza followed suit and they cantered out of the stables and through the castle gates, circling around along the wall until they broke away to take a little-used path into the woods. The snow had begun to fall a bit more densely, forming a light dusting on the evergreens they passed and sprinkling the branches of deciduous trees. The horses trampled the still soft ground, hooves crunching on the layer of dead leaves, and the few remaining birds sang as they flew to warmer climes. She took a deep, refreshing breath, glancing around at the plant life that stretched to either side, spotting a doe bounding through the trees.

On her right they passed a well so ancient it likely had not been used for centuries, the stone that built it worn smooth save for the minuscule chunks that had broken away. Any wooden frame that might have existed disintegrated long ago and, taking into account its distance from the castle, she guessed there was once a village in the area. They saw little else man-made on that route, continuing toward the mountains up ahead until they crossed out of the woods, sunlight glinting off the lake before them. The body of water was massive, its surface rippling, and the far end was cradled at the base of foothills.

The pair dismounted, tying off the reins so the horses would not wander, and he took her hand rather than offer the crook of his arm. "This way." He waved toward the southern shore and led them in that direction before adding, "Have I mentioned you're full of surprises?"

"How do you mean?" She gave him a sideways look.

"You're quite the archer. You never mentioned it."

"It never exactly came up, did it?" She smirked suggestively, giving his hand a squeeze. "I hear you're an impressive marksman yourself. Best at Lochstone, according to your men."

"Talking to my men now, are you?"

"Only when I meet them in the soldiers' pub to play cards at night."

He chuckled. "So you're the one that's been taking everyone's money."

"Afraid not but, in all sincerity, I believe my grandfather actually is."

"I've been hearing complaints that he cheats."

"Oh, he absolutely cheats. He _will_ stack the deck if given the opportunity."

"Good to know. I'll be sure to count cards very carefully if ever I'm in a game with him." He abruptly stopped to examine a clearing for a moment, a laugh escaping her when he pulled her forward just as suddenly. In the center of a small grassy area strewn with rocks and pine needles they stood facing each other, her back to the lake, and her gaze was quizzical when he took her hands. "Are you ready?"

"For?" she asked, just as he spun her around, and her jaw fell at the view; it had to be the loveliest spot all along the shore. The lake was visible through a frame of fir trees, the water lapping at the base of those foothills she's seen before, only now she could tell that they stretched off east, growing into mountains. The body of water was calmer at this end, shielded from the breeze, and clouds were reflected in its surface. "This is unbelievable."

His hands found her shoulders, and he ghosted his lips over her neck. "I've always thought this would be the perfect place for a cottage. Can you imagine seeing this every morning?"

"Tell me, would this be a single-resident dwelling? Or might there be room for another?"

"Certainly there'd be space...I should make inquiries of Lady Silaris." She elbowed him and he chuckled, voice softening. "You could be comfortable in a cottage in the woods?"

"I think, Roy Mustang, that what I could manage would surprise you. And you're right, this is the ideal spot...it'd be sublime." Riza turned to face him, toying with his coat. "But how would you feel about living at Dunairne? The view is not so lovely, however,..."

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"Before you decide, before you say anything else, there's something we have to talk about. My..."

"What is _that_?" came his muttered interruption.

"What do you mean?" She followed his gaze to the northwest, tensing when she saw a tendril of black smoke rising above the canopy.

"Shit, that's close." Roy strode toward the lake and out of the trees for a more unhindered view, his hand reaching for his sword instinctively but gripping only air as he'd left the weapon strapped to the horse. "It could be the forest road. Were any excursions planned today?"

"Not to my knowledge." She moved beside him, warily watching the ominous dark cloud and lamenting the fact her weapons were hidden in her trunk back at the castle. He looked over at her and she could surmise his thoughts, torn between leaving her behind unguarded or taking her into potential danger. To head off any argument she firmly told him, "I'm going with you." Once more appraising the wisp of smoke to judge direction and distance, she strode along the lake toward the woods.

He matched her stride and gave her a concerned look, leading them momentarily to the left to retrieve his sword from where it had been tied to Mercedes' tack. He met her gaze yet again but ultimately stayed silent, from which she deduced that he knew she would not be easily persuaded to leave. They moved through the forest quietly and she listened for anything out of the ordinary, relief briefly rushing through her when she remembered she'd slid a knife into her boot that morning. It was better than nothing.

As they neared the road a series of whimpers could gradually be heard over the other ambient sounds, and up ahead she saw an overturned carriage lying in the center of the thoroughfare. The smoke rose from one corner, where the shaft of what could only be a flaming arrow still protruded. A few figures were scattered on the ground around it and, after the shout sounded once more she thought she recognized the voice. Moving onto the road carefully, her fears were confirmed when she saw her grandmother on the ground a few feet from the coach, an arrow sticking out from beneath her sternum. She saw no enemies on the road and hurried forward to kneel beside her, checking her clothing in an attempt to see the wound. Roy appeared beside them and then was gone a moment later, striding to the far end of the carriage, where she saw a hand just visible around the corner of the vehicle.

"Althea, what happened?" She looked for the source of another patch of blood on the ground, and lifted the woman's head, determining that her grandmother must have cracked her skull on a rock when she fell.

Then Althea abruptly lunged upward, a knife glinting in her other hand, the blood stain around the arrow steadily growing. Riza grasped her grandmother's wrist to keep the weapon at a distance and noticed the green swirling around in the older woman's gray eyes: there was a seer nearby. With a cursory glance to verify Roys' position, and to make sure no one else saw, she pulled off a glove with her teeth and placed a hand on Althea's neck, slowing pulling some of the _rivuleta vitae_ into herself until the woman dropped back to the ground unconscious.

She stood, eyeing the knife in bewilderment, looking up at Roy's return to see his concerned expression, and she realized he carried his mother in his arms. He laid her next to the unconscious and bloody Lady Roberta, who was leaned in a seated position against the roof of the carriage, and she was just about to assess the other ladies' wounds but he took her arm instead, leading her a short distance away. "Do you remember where the horses are?"

"Yes, but..."

"Go. Ride to Lochstone and send men to this location."

"I'd rather not leave you alone out here." She took his hand, voice supplicating. "What if whoever did this..." Riza hushed, noticing the footfalls moving toward them and, judging by his intent gaze, he did as well.

They looked to the far side of the road as a semicircle of twelve men walked casually out of the trees, some with weapons already drawn. With a protective arm Roy pushed her back, drawing his sword and dagger and gesturing for her to rejoin the other women. She took slow steps backward, thinking quickly and watching the newcomers as their leader spoke. They appeared to be more mercenaries, these from Aerugo as opposed to Xing. "No one else was meant to be out here," the leader said with a wave at their violent handiwork. "This was not supposed to be found quite yet. Whatever shall we do?"

She searched for a weapon, vaguely hearing Roy reply, "I do apologize for interrupting your plans. A tiny smile broke on her face when she saw a quiver that must have belonged to the driver lying a few feet away and, watching the men carefully she shifted to the right in a crouch, reaching a hand out. From the other side of the carriage the mercenary leader arrogantly said, "No matter. It's perfectly acceptable to add to the body count."

Riza gritted her teeth, aware she was out of time, and grabbed the bow, which was fortunately unharmed. There were only three arrows in the quiver, however, the others lying broken by a horse that had trampled away or crushed under the carriage. Moving back toward the carriage, she peeked over the vehicle and nocked an arrow, gauging the progress of the altercation with a careful eye. She tried to identify her most strategic targets while anticipating how many soldiers Roy could neutralize himself. Being a master-at-arms he was undoubtedly talented, but few were sufficiently skilled to take on twelve alone.

Still watching, she placed the two remaining projectiles atop the overturned vehicle and, when two mercenaries stepped forward, Riza stood and drew back the bowstring in one motion. She exhaled, the fletching tickling her cheek, and loosed an arrow to fly straight into one man's neck. To his credit Roy ignored the distraction, simply slashing his sword along the next soldier's stomach, but she'd already gained the attention of other visitors. She nocked again, firing a quarrel into another man's eye socket, and then drew the string once more, this arrow skewering a mercenary archer.

Tossing the bow aside, she moved to meet the tall Aerugonian coming toward her, a blur of steel slashing downward. Riza used her forearm to block his sword-hand, gripping his weapon just above the pommel and tearing the hilt from his grasp. She twirled it deftly, lodging the blade into the base of his neck, sliding it free, and stepping over his body when it fell. She tested the weight of her borrowed sword while two more enemies approached her, parrying one weapon and spinning around him to block the next. She kicked the man behind her, sending him sprawling, and crossed blades with the other once again, using her sword to shove his to the left and swiftly cutting open his chest. She then turned to the mercenary slowly rising from the ground behind her and crouched over him, gripping him by the hair and running her knife across his neck.

Rising, she saw Roy stood a short distance away, gripping the tunic of one of the soldiers who was still alive but injured in several places. There was a burst of motion from one side and he raised his weapon to fend off the attack, but Riza flipped the knife to hold it by the blade and threw it into the side of the man's neck. Mustang's head whipped around, eyes growing wide when they found her, and he then knocked the mercenary he still held unconscious with the pommel of his sword. He turned back toward her and took a few steps, surveying the carnage in the vicinity, face unreadable. His gaze found the corpse with an arrow in its eye and his lips formed a line. "A _hobby_...is that what you called it?"

His accusatory tone irked her. "A target's a target, and I couldn't let you face them alone."

"Believe me, I appreciate that, and under different circumstances my gratitude would be more readily expressed." He waved his sword at the other men she'd killed. "Why keep this from me?"

"I could pose the same question to you."

"I beg your pardon?" He gave a dry chuckle. "The revelation that you can do... _that_ is certainly of greater interest than the fact that I can. First you've a secret mastery of archery, and now this."

She strode toward him, the continued affect of adrenaline making her words sharper than they might have otherwise been. "You seem to have a good deal more experience than any master-at-arms I've ever met…I'm not the only one that's held back."

He opened his mouth to reply, but his gaze was drawn to the waking Lady Mustang, and Riza's followed. "Damn," she cursed to herself, rushing to the woman's side and tearing more strips from her already destroyed jacket. With the arrival of their attackers, she'd not had time earlier to treat the wound, and an arrow still jutted out from Lenora's upper right chest, next to the shoulder joint.

"Mother." Roy's mutter was worried as he dropped to his knees at her side, fingers prodding the fabric of her dress to get a clear view of the injury.

Riza softly said, "It may not be a clean entry." She straddled the woman and delicately slipped an arm under her uninjured shoulder, slowly lifting her so he could get a look at the exit wound.

"The point is still inside." She could tell he was trying to remain pragmatic, but his concern was clearly growing. "We should leave it in...stabilize it."

"Help me lie her flat," she told him, and he nodded distractedly, positioning himself near his mother's head. Lady Mustang winced as she gently moved her arm, slipping a strip of fabric beneath the woman's shoulder and wrapping it around both the joint and arrow to secure it. She could certainly push the arrow through to remove the head, but she'd rather leave that for a healer that would be better able to determine the internal damage. The bleeding had slowed, and the wound itself was unlikely to kill her, but she did not want to risk exacerbating any potential impairment. She added two more strips to the wrapping until she was satisfied that it would hold during transportation to the castle.

The sound of horses' hooves reached her ears and she stood to watch the expanse of road, assuming someone else had finally taken note of the smoke from the still burning carriage. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roy come to a stop next to her, both waiting uneasily to see who would appear, and their shared relief was palpable when men bearing Lord Hughes' colors came around the bend. After the soldiers arrived, the injured women were laid in a wagon with the single living mercenary, whose hands and feet had been bound, while the dead were loaded into another that joined them several minutes later. It did not take long to clear the scene and the flurry of activity soon diminished, the Lochstone soldiers leaving for the castle. The would soon return to douse the fire and dismantle the coach but, for the time being, she and Mustang were left alone on the road. They stood silently, just a few feet apart, until he held something out to her and said, "I believe this is yours."

"Thank you," Riza replied, taking her already cleaned knife and slipping it into her boot. Before she could say anymore, he stepped forward to give her a soft kiss, and one of her hands came to rest on his chest.

"I apologize," he said when he pulled back, his hand still cupping her face. "I overreacted, like an idiot."

"I didn't help matters. I was just as short..."

"I trust you," he interjected, giving a tiny shake of the head to emphasize his next words. "I don't need to know everything about you to know that."

"I've _wanted_ to tell you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it before. I was nervous, and..." She stopped herself, unnecessarily adjusting the buttons on his vest while she took a second to organize her thoughts. "I was there, Roy. I led the Dunairne archers in the Aerugonian Conflict."

"Why would your father send you to war?"

"Our ancestors came from Drachma, and he's a bit of a devotee when it comes to the old traditions. I'm the heir to Dunairne Keep and its lands. My father trained me, and then sent me to Aerugo. He wanted me to be experienced, so that I wouldn't need to rely on a husband for protection."

" _Merda_ , Riza," he swore, running a hand through his hair, not realizing there was blood on his palm. "Surely you don't think your wealth was my goal. If I've given you any reason not to trust me I..."

"Don't be ridiculous," she cut him off. "Female soldiers are so few in Creta, we didn't want to draw any undesirable attention to our family. People think we're crazy as it is." She shrugged a shoulder. "And to avoid greedy suitors my father and I agreed years ago that I would only ever tell the man I hoped to marry."

His lips began to form a pleasantly surprised smile, but it soon slipped away. "I did see more fighting during the war than I led you to believe."

"You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not. I know how difficult it can be to discuss."

"No, no, it's fine." He met her gaze once more, eyes somewhat pained, filled with guilt. "I was the torturer. It was my duty to extract information from specific targets, by any means necessary...the Aerugonians called me Il Rogo."

"I've heard of you." She watched him for several seconds. "Thank you."

"I didn't want you to know that part of me. You're so _good_ and I..." Roy started to say, as if having anticipated a negative response, but stopped to look up at her in surprise. "What?"

"You indirectly saved my life and those of my men more times than I can count, but I never knew who you were." She reached up to wipe dirt from his brow. "We've all done terrible things, but everything you did in Aerugo saved lives in one way or another. Never feel ashamed of that."

He eyed her for a long moment, and then uttered a quiet, "Thank you….I should have told you before, but I thought I was keeping you free from the horrors of war." He chuckled. "That seems absurd given what I now know."

"Not at all. You were protecting me."

He took one of her hands, grazing his thumb over her knuckles. "You mentioned something earlier about a man you intend to marry."

"Why yes, I suppose I did."

He shook his head. "You deserve far better than what a lowly master-at-arms can offer you."

"I wouldn't call a master-at-arms _lowly_. It's perfectly respectable." She started to turn away, feigning a mild resignation. "Perhaps you're not interested."

With a laugh he pulled her back by the hand he still held, his tone lighthearted. "I wouldn't say it's a lack of interest, I simply have an abundance of similar offers from many lovely young ladies. I'll have to consider them car..." In that very instant he cried out in pain, fingers pressed to his temples as he fell to his knees.

" _Roy_." She felt fear race through her every muscle as she knelt next to him, his entire body rigid, and he gripped her arm fiercely. He seemed unable to speak, incapable of opening his eyes, and then, just as unexpectedly as it began, he slumped over and she caught him. His head rested against her chest and she anxiously ran fingers through his hair, fretfully trying to determine what she'd just witnessed.

* * *

When Roy regained consciousness it was in his own bed with a cup of tea on the nightstand and candles filling the room with soft light. Despite the fire that popped in the hearth he felt a chill, but when he reached for a blanket the dull ache in his head intensified to a stabbing pain behind his eyes. He slowly propped himself up, cradling his head in his hands, his blurred vision and the spinning room making him nauseous. When a quiet sound came from near the fireplace he looked up sharply, immediately regretting the quick motion, and saw a shadow rise from one of the armchairs.

"How are you feeling?" Riza quietly asked, perching next to him on the edge of the bed.

"Similar to how one might feel after falling off a cliff, I'd imagine." He tried to sit straighter and felt her light touch on his arm helping him move. "Sneaking into my quarters again...how shocking."

He heard the jest in her voice as she shifted pillows behind him. "I've such a soft spot for moderately attractive masters-at-arms." Her voice became serious and wavered slightly when she added, " _Never_ do that again."

He pulled her closer to give her a light kiss. "I'm fine."

When he winced at an abrupt resurgence of pain, she said, "Let me try something." She then pushed aside the pillows she'd just finished arranging and climbed onto the bed, sitting behind him and guiding him to lean against her.

"What are you…?" Before he finished the question she placed her fingertips at his temples, massaging softly in diminutive circles. Nigh instantaneously the pain reverberating through his skull began to subside, the pressure behind his eyes lessening to such a degree that he felt his entire body relax in response. " _How_ …?"

"I'm sure the talking won't help," came her playful interruption.

"You're a bit on the ill-humored side. I'll have to find someone more cheerful to take care of me."

"Shall I stop?" She lifted her hands as if threatening to remove them completely, and as the pressure of her fingers lessened the ache in his head returned.

"Good god, no." He tamped down a laugh, hope to avert the additional discomfort that might bring. "I'd no idea you had a healer's touch."

"I believe 'healer's touch' to be a bit generous...I'm just familiar with pressure points." She exhaled lightly behind him, still making tiny revolutions on his temples. "I should've told you everything before. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"You were _human_ , and what I told you before was only part of the truth." He paused contemplatively, and she ran a hand through his hair, sending a chill over his skin. "I always knew there was a chance you'd be forced into an arranged engagement to some wealthy, aggravatingly handsome lord and...

"Aggravatingly handsome?" she repeated, amused.

"Most likely, but don't misunderstand, I'd have put up quite a fight." He skimmed his palm over her leg. "I...if I ever lost you, I didn't want to risk that you'd remember me as a torturer, a murderer."

"Your past doesn't frighten me, whatever you may have done. I know what kind of man you are." Her tone changed then, and mirth was again audible in her voice. "You'd have put up a fight?"

"Mmm," was his affirmation, as well as a response to the continued effect of the massage. "Naturally I'd challenge all your suitors to a duel...and I would, of course, be the victor."

"Of course."

"And then Lord Hawkeye, no doubt overcome by a profound respect for my bravery and sense of honor, would give us his blessing."

"Yes, no doubt." She bit back a laugh.

"I'm not sure I appreciate all this skepticism, Lady Hawkeye."

"How sorry I am. You paint a lovely picture...one that makes it abundantly clear you've never met my father. He's not generally overcome by anything and, in the rare moment he is, it's more often than not the profound desire to shoot something."

"It seems we have a great deal in common."

"You're forever ridiculous." After another moment her hands left his forehead and trailed down to his chest. "Any better?"

"Much. Thank you." He grazed his fingers along her arm. "Do you know when your father might be available for a chat?" He paused. "If you'd like me to meet him, that is." Following a short silence he sat up and half-turned to find her watching him with bright eyes, biting her lower lip.

"Did you just agree to marry me? And in a tremendously indirect manner, I might add."

"I suppose I did." He brushed his lips over hers as she yanked him closer, draping a leg over his lap. He kissed her again, hand following her thigh, but when she reached for his vest he felt another twinge behind his eyes. He pulled away, eyelids sliding shut in a reflexive effort to ward off the pain, and they both froze.

"It's back," she muttered, with a hint of confusion he did not entirely understand. Slowly guiding him back into the pillows, she moved toward a table in the sitting area and brought him a cup of tea. "It's cold, but it may help."

He took a sip and rested his head. "Thank you. It's subsided, but evidently I should remain as still as possible."

"I'll survive," she quipped, dousing a few candles and joining him on the bed. "I think I'll stay a while."

"I'd like that." He wound an arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder, curling her right leg over his left. She slipped a couple fingers beneath his shirt to graze his stomach, as she often liked to do, and he kissed her forehead, closing his eyes while he waited for her breaths to slow. Her weight on his side was pleasantly warm, and he felt her body gradually relax, the leg cradled over his twitching minutely as she drifted off. He gazed into the shadows at the end of the bed and, when he was certain she slept, he slowly raised his left hand, considering it for a short time as though he'd never seen anything like it.

After a wary glance at her gilded head, he formed a fist and, when he opened the hand again, a small flame burst to life on his palm. With a mere thought it grew to a fiery orb the size of an apple, the red-orange flares shifting and morphing almost hypnotically. Astonishingly, he felt no heat, despite the fact that a fire hovered millimeters above his skin. Tilting his hand, he sent the glowing mass into the fireplace to join its brethren and then, on a hunch, turned his attention to one of the few candles that still burned. He let the hint of a thought cross his mind, and one corner of his mouth quirked when the light winked out of existence.

He was _gifted_.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **AN2:** Here is a little list of original characters along with a short description of who they are: Lord Cavan Traherne - Riza's great-uncle, Captain Fredrik Stevens - works for Riza and her father, Lady Althea Grumman - Riza's maternal grandmother, Lady Lenora Mustang - Roy's mother, General Hearn - an acquaintance of Lady Silaris Morrow, Lady Roberta Morrow - friend of Lenora/relative of Hughes, Maximilien - Riza's horse, Mercedes - Roy's horse, King Anton - the King of Drachma, Generals Fu and Tucker - men that work for Anton.


	7. The Guardian

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope life is good :) Not much to say today except that a list of original characters can be found at the end of this post.

I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

* * *

 **The Guardian**

Once again Riza found herself in Roy's bed, and she smiled ruefully while considering how thoroughly she'd thrown her usual cautions to the winds. Placing a kiss on his cheek, she slid out of bed and left silently, hurrying through darkened passageways to her own door. Her concern for his headaches had not abated, and she resolved to discover if Maria were capable of offering any assistance. She could still feel remnants of the potent fear that had welled in her chest when he collapsed, and his continued pains were troubling.

She lacked the opportunity to make such inquiries of the seer upon reaching her chambers, however, since her friend's expression of foreboding quickly stole her attention. "Maria...what is it?"

"I very nearly came to fetch you." The brunette handed her a creased sheet of parchment, on which a likely encoded message had been written by her father.

 _My dearest daughter,  
_

 _I am delighted to hear you are enjoying yourself. Rest assured that all is well and that we at Dunairne look forward to your swift return. Preparations for winter's arrival are nearing completion, and Mrs. Marston has promised to bake those little pumpkin cookies you so enjoy. Please give my regards to the newlyweds, I wish them every happiness imaginable, and do give my love to your grandmother. We will expect you in four days' time at ten o'clock._

 _H_

She looked up with uneasy eyes and checked the clock, which had just struck quarter to one in the morning. Shoving the note in a pocket she rushed to strap her various sheathes in place, sliding weapons home. "He's here. I'm to meet him at one o'clock." She donned a jacket and tightened her boots. "I may make it."

"I'll go with you," the other woman replied, throwing on her own coat.

"No, stay here. Something isn't right." She hesitated. "I'm sure the missive is from father...the writing style matches his...but this may go poorly. And with Stevens absent I need you here with what few men we have."

"That's unwise."

"Give me an hour, Maria, then feel free to send the Dunairne archers after me. You remember where?"

"Yes." Her friend chuckled. "I never thought we would actually need a so-called 'emergency rendezvous point.' Though I've worked with your family long enough to know better."

"I agree...with both." Just before disappearing into the servants' corridor she added, "While I'm gone I'd like you to take a look at my grandmother. Perhaps you can find out who used her to try to stab me earlier. And don't worry...I'll be back shortly." Sincerely hoping that to be true, she strode toward the nearest stairwell, taking it down to the vast kitchens where she peered around a corner, thanking whatever luck she had that there were only shadowed archways and cold fireplaces. With soft steps she crouched in the middle of a storeroom, partially lifting a metal grate out of the stone floor and dropping down into the tunnels below. She moved the grate until it was almost in place, with the intention of concealing her passage and also ensuring she would be able to re-enter the castle.

Maria's abilities had allowed her to read the minds of several guards, thus providing them with a nearly complete map of the network of crypts below, and Riza had memorized it from the seer's sketches. She tried to bring forth a mental image, taking the first few walkways slowly until she reached one that would take her beyond the castle's grounds, at which point she broke into a full run. Few knew of the tunnels, but the original lord of Lochstone Castle had the system built beneath the stronghold to serve as a means of escape for his family in the event they were overrun. As far as Riza knew, they had never been used for such a purpose, but they were quite helpful for those that needed to leave and return unseen.

When she came to an iron gate, she used a key they had procured and then strode into the trees warily, making a thorough examination of her surroundings. The clouds from earlier had thickened, and the moon was just a sliver in the sky, providing minimal light. At that time of night the forest was oppressively silent, making every whisper of wind or rustle of brush seem louder than a thunder clap. Her eerie surroundings, coupled with recent uncertainties, increased her level of controlled suspicion ten-fold. There had been too many odd occurrences for them to be passed off as coincidental, and now her father felt the need to meet, which meant he was worried. And that fact alone was alarming.

She continued through the woods, the lack of moonlight making her progress more difficult than anticipated. Out of habit she reached for her pocket watch to check the time, but that notion was soon forgotten given the inability to read the clock face. When she finally reached the ancient, battered well that was their meeting place, it was not her father that waited beside it, rather the portly woman with frizzy, black hair that served as Dunairne's cook. "Mrs. _Marston_?" Her mouth fell open in shock, and she was unable to conjure a logical reason for the woman's presence there. "Where is my father?"

"I'm so sorry, Lady Hawkeye," Marston replied with a bow, holding out the leather band that Lord Hawkeye always wore on his wrist; the band she had recently discovered concealed an artful tattoo.

Her jaw went slack once more as she took the item with a gloved hand, widened gaze flickering between the band and the woman multiple times. "No..." She could only bring herself to utter that syllable, her vision blurred around the edges as tears fought to free themselves, her stomach dropping. "No."

"They came for him."

"Who?"

"Time has run out, milady. Please, remove your glove."

The request brought her crashing back to reality, and she eyed the cook with suspicion. "Excuse me?"

"You know very well what I mean, milady. Your father left something for you, and to retrieve it you must touch the item directly."

"How do you…?"

"There's no time for this," Mrs. Marston interrupted in an uncharacteristically forceful manner, before contritely adding, "Begging your pardon, milady."

Her gaze not leaving Marston she tore off a glove and held the leather with her fingers, releasing whatever energy her father had stored there. Her lips pursed when she felt the skin on her left wrist burn, the sensation exceedingly unpleasant but not entirely painful. Lifting the appendage she watched the skin turn bright red, and then with an intense jolt black tendrils began to appear, radiating from a central point at the top of her wrist and wrapping around the joint. In the center she saw a rose form, one delicate petal at a time, as though the artist were painting the image directly onto her skin, and she recognized her father's tattoo.

"Goodbye, milady."

She looked up just in time to see the older woman pull a knife from the folds of her dress and, with an almost tender final smile, drag it across her own throat. "Mrs. Marston!" Riza shouted, lunging forward too late and only managing to catch her as she fell. "What in Xerxes…?" she whispered, lowering the matronly cook to the ground, their clothes already dyed red, the sharp edge having found a major artery. She was contemplating her options, wondering how she could possibly explain the dying woman in her arms, when a razor-like pain shot through her head, as if a hot poker had punctured her skull. She was only partly aware of her own strangled cry, doubled over as she was, clutching ineffectually at her forehead. The realization began to form that this could be what Roy had just experienced, but it was interrupted by the intermingled pictures and voices that flashed through her mind, biting at the space around her eyes like overbearing sunlight on a bright day. Then it mercifully stopped, and she collapsed.

* * *

The night breeze whistled softly through the open window as Roy reclined in one of his cushioned armchairs, a book lying open on his lap and a glass of whiskey sitting unnoticed on the table next to him. After waking alone he'd elected to read, a venture which turned out to be altogether pointless as the book was set down every few minutes and flame again called to his hand. He was nearly convinced he'd lost his mind, and each time he tried to will fire to life on his palm he half-thought that nature would correct its mistake, but each time said fire responded as surely as if they were old friends. And that proficiency was, quite possibly, what fascinated him most. Not only was he gifted, but he already knew how to use it. Instinctively. As though he'd spent years honing his craft and they'd merely parted ways for a short time, but he had no actual recollection of that practice.

Memories flitted through his head like birds speeding back to the nest, parts of his life he'd somehow forgotten. However they were jumbled, out of sequence: in one flash he saw an unfamiliar woman, in another a colossal leather-bound book, and in the next something entirely different. In the same way he knew how to use his gift, he knew the images were his recollections and, though he could not remember living them or having them taken away, he assumed only a seer had that power.

Uncertainties plagued him, such as whether or not his mind was toyed with against his will, or if he would like what he remembered when the flashes coalesced into something comprehensible. He was not only ignorant of who took them, but also their motivation and, with so many unknowns, he could not bring himself to tell Riza. Not yet. He had no idea what he'd stumbled into and would not risk putting her in danger. That, and he could not explain it if he tried.

Roy abruptly sat straighter when yet another image passed through his mind, reaching for the parchment and quill on the table. He'd seen a page of a book, possibly from the leather tome in his other memory, which bore a sketch of black vines around a rose, similar to the representation the seer had shown him. He _knew_ he'd seen it somewhere and, at that thought, he shook his head in disbelief, contemplating the remarkably bizarre circumstance of recognizing an image when one had lost the memory of truly seeing it.

He soon lost the opportunity to transfer it to paper since, at that instant, the door to his chambers flew open and Maes strode irately toward him. With a chuckle he stood and greeted, "Please, do come in. It's only the middle of the night."

"You're too kind," his friend grumbled, sloshing a couple shots of whiskey into a glass and draining it in one gulp.

"What in hell is the matter with you? Shouldn't you be with your new wife?"

Maes barked out a wry guffaw. "Funny thing…she's gone."

"What? Where?" He quickly hid an incredulous laugh in light of Maes' mood.

"I haven't a goddamn clue." He took another drink and set the glass down heavily. "And evidently we've developed a knack for frightening people away...Lady Hawkeye left as well."

That gave him a jolt and, before he could even think about controlling his reaction, he blurted, "She _what_?"

Hughes' brow rose exponentially, and he smirked. "My, my, Captain. That's a rather emphatic response considering you've only known the woman a few days. I wonder if she just so happens to be..."

"Not now, Maes," he replied decisively, returning the conversation to its original topic. "Lady Hughes left no note? Nothing to indicate why she left or where she might've gone?"

"No, and can I assume by your extremely well-hidden surprise that your _lady friend_ gave you no hint either?"

His jaw set. "You can." Roy started throwing on clothes and weapons. "I'll follow them...see if I can catch up."

"I'm going with you."

"It'd be better if only one of us were absent from Lochstone. I'll..."

"She's my wife, Roy. I'm going."

"Of course, my lord." Together they left the room in favor of the hall, and he made a mental note to speak with his mother later and finally ask about his father, and his gift. He'd intended to pay her a visit later that morning, preferably after first light, but this newest in a series of unbelievable occurrences took precedence. As they quietly traversed passages he ran through possible reasons for which Riza would leave without a word of farewell, and he concluded that something terrible must have happened. His concern grew with every step.

"I already sent a guard to rouse Breda and Fuery, I know you prefer working with them. And we'll definitely need the tracker...someone must have a seer because none of the men saw which direction they went."

"No seer is that powerful." He changed his mind almost the instant he made the declaration, glancing at his own hand and recalling the flame he'd recently held. Clearly there was much he did not know. "Though I could be wrong."

They were in their saddles and beyond the gates in record time, and Roy waved Fuery ahead to learn what he could. The young tracker dismounted and walked several meters further along the road, pacing from one side to the other and intermittently stooping to place his hand on the ground. After several minutes he stood, gazed northward, and then strolled in their direction, launching himself back into the saddle. "They're definitely traveling together. And they followed the road north around twenty minutes ago...two coaches and fourteen riders. Moving _fast_."

"Fourteen," Roy mused. "It must be Lady Hughes, Lady Hawkeye, Lord Grumman, Maria, and the Dunairne archers. A small party."

"And if they do have a seer," Fuery continued, "they're doing nothing else to block me besides what they did with the guards."

"Then they either don't anticipate being followed, or don't much care." Hughes partially drew his sword and let gravity slide it home, a tic of his. "Let's go."

The night had chilled considerably, and the sky was so thickly veiled with clouds that he repeatedly considered using his newly recovered abilities to light their way. However, some intuition told him to hold back, to not reveal himself as gifted, and he respected the feeling. Without the knowledge that awaited in the memories that had yet to organize themselves, it was better to wait.

The wilderness lining either side of the road was uncommonly silent, it seemed even its nocturnal population had chosen to stay hidden. It was as if some shroud of unease had been thrown over the surrounding area and, by the way Fuery constantly glanced from side to side, frequently breaking formation to touch his hand to a tree, he could tell he was not alone in thinking something was amiss.

They continued for nearly three quarters of an hour, with every man of their party apprehensively examining the shadows, until the tracker signaled that he'd found something of note. "The trail splits here, milord. The carriages kept to the road, but the riders broke off into the woods."

"Any idea why?" Hughes asked.

"There's a large camp a half-mile away."

"Odd." Roy turned his mount to scan the road in both directions. "I can't imagine who they'd be meeting." Dropping to the ground he said, "We should check it out." Baffled, he silently asked himself what Riza could possibly be doing, and what would prompt her to sneak up on an unknown faction in the forest. He looked over their small group, already aware that they'd only be able to provide minimal assistance in the event she and her archers had been taken captive.

The men led the horses into the forest, searching for a secluded place in which to leave them before moving on. When they found a suitable location, he ordered two soldiers to stay behind with the mounts and Fuery led the rest of the group toward the mystery camp. Though his eyes had adjusted, the going was far from easy in the near pitch-dark, and he guessed the tracker was using his abilities to guide them more than his other senses. He kept a close eye on the back of the young man's head, looking away briefly when Hughes appeared at his side, face set with worry and confusion. "We'll find her, Maes, and then we'll find out what in hell is going on."

"I'm having trouble understanding why the Dunairne archers would have left the women to continue on in the coaches without protection. It makes no sense."

"I'm not sure they did." Roy moved into the clearing they had just come upon, where a small collection of horses were tied. Selecting one in particular, he placed a hand on his neck and the animal snorted. "Hi there, Max. What are you doing out here?"

"Max?" Hughes' gaze was inquisitive.

"Lady Hawkeye's horse...Maximilien."

"The soldiers brought the women with them?" His employer replied incredulously. "At least we know they weren't meeting with those in the camp."

"How can we be sure?" Fuery asked as he joined them.

"They left their horses behind as well." Roy gave Max's neck a gentle pat. "Which means they didn't want to be noticed...and whoever's in that camp, they're not friends." Hand on the hilt of his sword, he signaled for them to keep moving and they picked their way through darkened trees and undergrowth once more. It was not long before they began to hear laughter up ahead, a dim orange glow visible between black tree trunks. Spotting a guard leaning against one such plant, he held up a hand for the others to halt and crept forward, approaching the man from behind. He drew a small blade to neutralize the threat but, as he neared, noticed the watchman's remarkable stillness. Reaching around the tree to check the man's pulse, he waved the others onward. "Sentry down."

A few meters beyond the sentry, they crouched on the edge of a large glade and concealed themselves behind any available plant or rock, Hughes ordering the men to spread out. Before them was a party of mercenaries led by Drachmans, large enough to pose a threat but small enough to escape notice as long as they kept away from villages and busy roads. Several men were clustered around the three fires spread throughout the camp, while other soldiers had stretched out sleepily on the ground. At one end of the clearing a man had been lashed to a tree trunk, head lolling to one side, his face bloodied and bruised beyond recognition. It was difficult to be certain, but the man's right hand bore a mark similar to the Hawkeye crest that he'd seen on Grumman.

Roy was scanning the line of trees surrounding the camp, trying to catch a glimpse of the Dunairne soldiers, when Fuery appeared on Hughes' right. "There are sentries down all around the clearing and the Dunairne archers have formed a horseshoe around the southern end. There's also two people at the other end, near the prisoner. You don't think they're attempting an attack..."

"They're extremely outnumbered," Maes commented. "There's no way."

Motion to the south called their attention, and he tensed upon seeing Riza step into the glade alone. This time she was prepared to fight, with blades strapped to her thighs and a slim knife glinting from her belt. She spoke, but he could not make out the words.

"Is that Lady _Hawkeye_?" Hughes breathed skeptically.

Roy's gaze shifted from her to the prisoner and, when he finally recognized the man's sandy brown hair, he understood. "It's Stevens...they're rescuing him. Riza's the distraction. Fuery, help the pair with the prisoner."

"Breda and I will spread, provide support." Seeing him walk away, his friend asked, "And yourself?"

"I'm going to help her." He raced in her direction with as much stealth as he could muster, drawing a knife when he saw a sentry ahead and slowing his steps. He came up behind the man and placed a hand over his mouth, ramming the weapon into his neck and silently lowering him to the ground.

In the glade he saw a man approach Riza with a grin that made him uneasy. "Lady Hawkeye….I doubt I've ever been so pleasantly surprised." He was unnervingly pale, with a protuberant nose and menacing Drachman accent.

"I hear you've been looking for me, Tucker." She let a hand rest on the pommel of one of her long knives, and Roy's eyes narrowed at the revelation that _Tucker_ was searching for her, not least because the man had been imprisoned for war crimes following the Aerugonian conflict. "What is it you want?"

"I think you know, and I'm quite curious as to why you'd take the risk of coming to _me_." He glanced at a soldier that must have been his seer or tracker. "And all alone, no less."

"Not alone," Roy interjected, stepping out of the shadow of the woods to slit the throat of the mercenary approaching her back.

She caught his eye when he came to stand beside her, biting back a smile, and then addressed Tucker. "My people always have friends, Shao. Or have you forgotten?"

The Drachman's jaw clenched, and he let out a frustrated breath, drawing his sword and spinning to wedge it into the back of one soldier's neck, severing the man's spinal cord. "I commend your seer, Lady Hawkeye. I'll have to offer him a position on my team...I've a feeling he'll soon be looking."

"Yes, _she_ is quite talented, and I believe she'll be working with me for the foreseeable future."

"Let us dispense with these false civilities, leech. I'll ask only once...where is it?"

Riza chuckled quietly. "A wasted effort. I won't tell you."

"Stubborn like your father, I see. Then I predict you'll die like him." As Tucker turned away he could be heard saying, "Take her alive, kill anyone else."

Roy was hardly able to react to news that her father was dead because they were putting their backs together and drawing their weapons. "How are you with a sixteen-to-one fight?"

"Child's play."

The smile in her voice led him to respond in kind, ignoring for the moment all the questions that clambered to be asked and watching two mercenaries approach him from either side. The man on his left lunged, and he pushed the blade downward with his dagger, simultaneously swinging his other weapon at the abdomen of the soldier on his right. The sword was knocked from his hand and he turned, elbowing the first attacker in the jaw to dislocate it before spinning toward the other man and ducking beneath an upward slash. Dagger still in his left hand, he pulled a knife from the enemy's belt, burying one between his ribs and the other near his kidney. He yanked them free and turned on his heel to find the other opponent on his hands and knees, kneeing him in the jaw to break it. There was a shout of pain and he wedged a knife in the mercenary's back.

He rose to retrieve his sword but, when he saw a man barreling toward Riza, he dropped his shoulder and rammed into him, launching him over his back. Before the soldier could climb to his feet, Roy lifted his sword from the ground and shoved it into the enemy's gut. Stepping away, he shook blood from his weapons and, feeling her back once more against his, cockily said, "I've got three."

"You won't be in the lead for long," came her mirthful response.

He dodged left to avoid a blade thrust at his head and snaked his between them to slice at the back of the mercenary's knee. He then spun to meet another attack, taking a step forward to lock the man's arm beneath his own and shoving his sword into his enemy's chest. Returning his attention to the soldier now kneeling behind him, he thrust a blade into his back and yanked it swiftly free. He raised his knife just in time to deflect an attack and guide it over his head, only to receive a boot to the stomach, sending him onto his back. With a roll to evade another strike, he threw a kick to the side of his attacker's calf, stabbing him in the thigh and then the side when he dropped before tearing the blade out sideways.

With the Dunairne soldiers' providing support from the trees, they made quick work of the mercenary-Drachman cohort, and Riza soon strolled in his direction, holding out a hand to help him up. Once on his feet, he stowed the dagger and sheathed his sword while she looked him over. "Are you alright?"

"Yes...just an idiot that let myself get kicked." He tilted her face to the side to check the slim cut along her jaw. "You?"

"I'm fine." She glanced over to where Hughes was helping Lady Gracia climb down from a tree, bow in her hand, and then her gaze refocused on his. "I wanted to keep you out of this, but...I'm selfishly very glad you're here." While he was still oblivious to what all 'this' was, he knew it was not the time for such questions.

"Of course." He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, and she smiled. "What he said, about your father..."

Her expression sobered, and he could see the sadness hidden in her eyes, in the minute sinking of her shoulders. "He's dead, yes."

"My lady," Maria said behind her, Fuery and Grumman beside her virtually carrying Captain Stevens.

The blonde spun and wiped blood from beneath the injured man's eye. "Fucking hell, Fredrik...what did they do to you?"

He took a rasping breath. "They're all gone. Everyone...I'm sorry, milady."

Her hand clenched on the hilt of one of her knives and her jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly controlled her reaction. "Don't worry about that now. We'll talk later."

"My lady," Maria repeated, this time with the barest upward inflection.

Riza turned Stevens' head from side to side and visually surveyed his limbs for other cuts and bruises. "Not here."

"I agree," Hughes said, joining the small group that had gathered. "I sent men to bring the horses. Fuery informed me there's another force nearby."

The tracker nodded as confirmation. "Coming from the northeast. I have a hunch Tucker means to meet up with them...his tracks led in that direction."

"Oh, yes. Tucker escaped, by the way," Maes added, his dry tone leaving no doubt as to his opinion on the matter. "Lady Hawkeye, I request that you return to Lochstone with us. From there I'd be happy to organize an escort to accompany you to Dunairne, or wherever you wish to go."

"It's me they're after, Lord Hughes. You have my gratitude, but I can't bring that trouble to your door. It's one reason I left in the first place."

"I insist, Riza." Roy met her eyes, trying to convey just how much he disliked a plan that involved her leaving again, no matter how noble her intentions. "Come to Lochstone. It's a safe, defensible place to regroup. We can question that merc, and the Traherne messenger that survived the attack a few nights ago...find out what exactly is going on."

Fuery's observant gaze leapt between the two. "Have I missed something?"

"Good question. You're at the Rose with him _all the time_...how did you miss this?" Hughes waved the sword in his hand toward the pair in question. "You're the tracker. You're meant to see what others don't."

"Yes, Fuery," Breda added, taking Grumman's position beneath Stevens' right arm. "How'd you fail to notice such a fascinating development?"

"You didn't know either," the tracker retorted.

"Our secret's out, I take it," Riza softly replied.

"I let it slip to Hughes and, given his propensity for gossip, I knew the entire world would soon be informed."

" _Do_ forgive me for being a man that enjoys sharing what I see as happy n..."

"We should go," Maria abruptly interjected. "The force is not overly large, but they're coming."

Riza silently debated for an instant and then gave him a small nod. "To Lochstone."

"To Lochstone," he repeated quietly, following the others as they hurried away from the devastation they'd caused and back to the horses. He did not know precisely what would come for them, but he knew their chances of survival were much better behind the walls he had come to know so well. Still, he admitted to himself that, if she had decided to try to lead the unknown soldiers away from them, she would not have left without him.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day!

 **AN2:** Here is a little list of original characters along with a short description of who they are: Lord Cavan Traherne - Riza's great-uncle, Captain Fredrik Stevens - works for Riza and her father, Lady Althea Grumman - Riza's maternal grandmother, Lady Lenora Mustang - Roy's mother, General Hearn - an acquaintance of Lady Silaris Morrow, Lady Roberta Morrow - friend of Lenora/relative of Hughes, Maximilien - Riza's horse, Mercedes - Roy's horse, King Anton - the King of Drachma. (If I missed any, let me know.)


	8. The Assault on Lochstone Castle: Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! Happy New Year to everyone, I hope life is good :) I'm excited finally be posting after my long and unplanned hiatus! Part of it was work and holiday busyness (if that's a word), and part of it was sporadic battle with writer's block which, as you all probably know, bites. Just a couple quick notes:  
-I just wanted to mention that I changed the term for the shapeshifting gift to 'varient.' I think I used 'metamorph' or something similar before but I decided I didn't really care for that. I haven't yet had the chance to change it in the previous chapter or two in which it appeared, but I will.  
-Also, there's a short list of original characters at the end of the chapter, as well as responses to any guest reviews.

That said, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **The Assault on Lochstone Castle:** Part 1

It was under much more sobering circumstances that Riza arrived at Lochstone for the second time within a week, racing through gates which thudded shut with a portentous finality. The animals clopped around the stone-paved area near the stables, shifting on their hooves and neighing at each other, still energetic from the brisk ride. Hopping to the ground, she tossed her reins to a stable boy that came over at a sprint and then helped Stevens down, throwing his arm over her shoulders as Maria took the other. When her grandfather approached she said, "Take Jenkins and the other archers to help cover the wall. I'll join you there later."

Not waiting for his affirmation, she hurried up the front steps and into the keep, winding through the chaos of servants and guests alike preparing to leave through the clandestine tunnel leading to the well, some more calmly than others. They passed a frantic Lady Silaris being led away by an exasperated General Hearn who was attempting to pacify her, meanwhile Lady Hakuro was her usual serene self, no stranger to conflict as the wife of a military man. She shared a meaningful moment with her husband, one of many similar they had experienced, and then he kissed her with a smile that was meant to assure her he'd return from this fight as well. Hakuro then approached Riza and, aware that he wished to know where he was needed, she simply said, "Hughes is in the bailey." The gentleman nodded, and it was then that she noticed Roy had caught up with her, and was watching her with interest, undoubtedly wondering why an older, more experienced lord would defer to her in any way. There was no time for _that_ explanation.

Climbing more stairs, they eventually reached less crowded halls and were able to move more rapidly, reaching her old quarters in minutes. Her wounded friend was laid on the sofa, and behind her she heard Roy order a soldier to retrieve one of the healers to help him. He then continued, "We should go...they'll be ready for the interrogation."

She glanced to where he stood at the door as she took Stevens' hand. "I'll only be a moment." The healers could fix his injuries, but they could do nothing for his depleted life force, so she let some of her own _rivuleta vitae_ pass into him. The Captain of Dunairne instantly relaxed, breaths coming deeper and more slowly, and she felt his hand gradually warm, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Maria, being one of the few repeat recipients of this type of aid, often said the force from her _rivuleta_ was always comforting, like a blanket on a frigid day, far from the chilly force of the prisoner they'd found a fortnight prior. "That'll help him recover quickly...Maria, I want you on the wall with the men. Keep me informed."

The seer nodded, holding out her own hand. "Do you need to replenish?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

The brunette took a seat on the edge of the sofa. "Do you mind if I stay for a moment?"

"Not at all." Riza stepped into the hall, waiting for Roy to shut the door before taking the stairs downward.

They reached the first floor landing before he finally said, "Tucker called you a leech. I've heard of a gift like that but...I never knew it actually existed." He hesitated a half-second, opening the door for her to enter the staircase to the dungeons. "Have you..."

"Taken from you? No, never. I've only given."

"Earlier tonight...when my headaches abated."

"Yes. I'd actually hoped to tell you I was gifted when we were talking before, but I was rudely interrupted by your loss of consciousness."

"My apologies, my lady." He gave an exaggerated little bow. "I'll do my best to not let it happen again."

"Yes, Captain, see that you do." She gave him a smirk and followed him into the mercenary's cell, a small space with a low ceiling and lit by only a few torches. It was already fairly crowded, with one soldier cleaning blood off his knuckles while another dumped water over the prisoner's head to mitigate the stench, and a third was stoking a fire, keeping it hot in the event Roy's interrogation methods became necessary. The captive was shackled to the wall by his wrists and another set of manacles bound his feet, the chain winding through an iron loop in the floor to keep him in place. Blood dripped from his black hair as well as the corner of his mouth, and sharp, beady eyes watched them from beneath heavy lids. Something oozed from a cut near one such eye, and his neck and arms were covered in a patchwork of colorful bruises at different stages of healing. He rasped a breath, a few dry laughs escaping him when he noticed her presence, and then spit blood onto the floor.

Hughes came striding into the room and briefly appraised his soldiers' handiwork before joining her, at which point Roy turned to them from where he'd been conferring with the previous interrogators. "They've been at it sporadically since we brought him in...he's told them nothing. And it seems the Traherne messenger passed within the last few hours, so the prisoner has become our only source of information." He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it to one of his men. "I believe it's my turn."

Maes nodded once, and then glanced at her. "I don't suppose your seer could learn anything more quickly?"

"Maria is excellent, but I doubt it. These mercenaries are often trained to resist psychic attacks. She can play tricks on them, but in a direct mental assault she'd have to wade through a great deal of useless information before finding what we want."

"This won't take long." He rolled up his sleeves, catching her eye as if wishing she would not see what came next but resigned to it, and then his face turned to stone. "Take him down and bring us two chairs." In response to Hughes' quizzical look, Roy added, "Time is of the essence, yes?" The prisoner's shackles were removed from the wall and floor respectively, and he was rapidly secured to a chair, where he observed the room through red-tinged hair. Mustang strolled toward the other seat and took it, leaning back and crossing one ankle over the other leg, watching the man silently as the metal-caged fire was slid closer. He'd always been a confident man, but there was a new swagger in the way he carried himself that she'd never seen before. "You know who I am?"

The man made no response other than to look up at him.

"A group of your friends is on the way here...tell me about them."

The mercenary continued to eye him with a mixture of dislike, apathy, and amusement.

"How many men?"

Silence.

"Who leads them?" He paused. "It would behoove you not to toy with me." The man merely chuckled and spat in his face, at which point the soldiers in the room took steps forward. Raising a hand to keep them at bay, Roy took a cloth handed to him and wiped the blood and saliva from beneath his eye. With a wry laugh of his own he watched the prisoner, idly lifting the pommel of one of the blades placed in the fire, shifting it around in the coals. In a flash he yanked it out and buried it in the mercenary's thigh, scarcely muffled screams echoing off stone walls as the man futilely tried to hold back evidence of his pain. "I really don't have time for this. Thus, I'll continue to separate bone from tendon until you answer all my questions. Fortunately, this blade is hot enough to cauterize some of the blood vessels I just severed, so trust me when I say you'll be able to enjoy this longer than you expect." He moved the knife just a millimeter and the man shrieked.

" _Alright_ , _alright_ ," he heaved in Drachman, blood flowing from the wound despite the Captain's not-so-encouraging words about cauterization.

"In Amestrian."

" _Th_ _e_ _bitch can translate_."

The dagger was again adjusted, if only slightly, and the prisoner cried out. "I advise you to speak more kindly of the lady, and from now on you should simply do as I say. Or our chat will become truly unpleasant."

The mercenary glared, and it seemed that part of him wanted to find out just how disagreeable his situation could become. "General Fu took men to Dunairne looking for both Hawkeyes, but the daughter was absent."

"How many men are at his disposal?"

"Enough Drachman soldiers and Xingese mercenaries to overrun almost any stronghold."

"How do they travel unnoticed?"

"Separate groups...they converge on one location from multiple directions."

"Any gifted?"

"Some." There was another tug on the blade and he winced. "A few trackers, a varient or two, a seer...I don't fucking know them all." His grin was bloody and wide. "We were always going to hit Lochstone...just for fun."

"Who at Lochstone is working with you?"

"Nobody I know of." He let out a scream after a less gentle pull. "I swear I don't know a thing about that."

"Why are they after Lady Hawkeye?"

A derisive laugh. "Ask the bitch yourself." His face scrunched in agony when the weapon in his thigh was shifted. "Fu will kill everyone until he finds her." His expression became smug as his eyes rose to find hers and, in an extremely old Drachman dialect, he said, " _Anton will kill you_ , _guardian_."

Riza smirked. " _He's welcome to try_."

" _He will find it, and when he does_ _you'll be broken in unimaginable ways. I'm only sorry I'll miss_..."

Before he could finish Roy removed the dagger and whipped the side of his head with the hilt, the mercenary's head falling backward against the wall. "Enough." He handed the knife away and walked in their direction, wiping his hands clean, brow drawn together. "That was more personal than I expected."

"He's not a mercenary. I thought he was but..." She was quiet for a moment. "...the dialect that man spoke is known by few, and only used by the old families. He was Drachman, I'm sure of it. I thought Anton was only hiring mercs, but he must be using them to train his own men as well as round out his forces."

" _Anton_ is after you?" Maes replied in shock, yanking her into the hall outside the cell. "It'd have been nice of you to mention that earlier." He fell silent as one of his soldiers passed by, and then his tone was curt when he said, "Follow me….now." He led them on a swift walk through several halls and up two staircases before picking a room, ushering them in, and slamming the door behind him. Inside Gracia stood from a her seat across the room, giving her a little shrug, but Hughes cut off any other exchange by saying, "The time for civilities is over, Lady Hawkeye. You will explain to me this instant why the goddamn _King_ of Drachma is after you. If you don't comply, I'll interrogate you myself, your friendship with my wife notwithstanding."

"Alright, let's all take a breath," Roy said, stepping toward his friend. "No one's interrogating anyone."

"My wife, my home, and my livelihood are about to be under siege, and I'd like to know _why_."

"I'd say that's fair. Since we've only time for the truncated version...how's your history?" Riza asked by way of beginning.

"Decent at the very least."

"Then you know that approximately two hundred years ago the reigning king, His Majesty King Ryurik, was overthrown by his adopted brother Avgar, who claimed that Ryurik's father had intended to name _him_ as successor instead." She wiped away a few droplets of blood still on her sleeve from the earlier fight.

"You're saying your family's being hunted after _two hundred years_ ," Hughes concluded with a strong hint of skepticism.

"I know it sounds implausible, but it's true." Gracia stepped forward, setting a hand on her new husband's arm. "Her family has something he desperately needs. Drachmans have killed any number of our relatives and ancestors, but they've never gotten this close before."

"My family has kept King Ryurik's seal hidden for centuries, but if Anton acquires it he essentially legitimizes the Avgar line."

"I heard the legend but I hardly think a seal could..."

"You don't understand, Lord Hughes. As long as the seal remains lost, his subjects can hope. Hope that one day they'll overthrow him, that freedom is in their future. There are those in Drachma that oppose him and, as long as he lacks that seal, his reign can be seen as tenuous. Might I remind you that, even after his family's two hundred year reign, the Amestrian government still doesn't recognize Anton as the ruler of Drachma. As far as they're concerned, the country has no king." She paused. "It's become a symbol of his opposition, and if he finds it..."

"He'll take it as license to destroy them all, because the people will have lost their last hope." Roy spoke quietly, watching her with a penetrating look she did not entirely understand.

" _Xerxes_ ," Hughes sighed. "You're serious…. _The_ lost seal of Ryurik. It's real? You've seen it?"

"I've seen it."

He watched her, obviously trying to decide something, and then exhaled again. "Very well. Captain, I want you on the wall with the archers...you have an excellent eye yourself. I want the other soldiers spread out to protect the gates, the main door, and the servants and guests that couldn't leave."

"Certainly, my lord." Roy dipped his head. "I'd like to look in on my mother first. We should have time."

"Feel free, Mustang. Something tells me the archers can handle themselves for the moment. Lady Hawkeye, I'd like you to join the Captain on the ramparts. He's more familiar with your abilities, and you with those of your men."

"I'd be happy to, Lord Hughes," Riza replied. The Lord and Lady of Lochstone left and she watched Roy slip on the jacket he'd carried with him and start for the door. The set of his shoulders was still tense, and there were moments during his interrogation that she thought his head pain might have returned, or he may have been distracted by a resurgent memory. She had watched him earlier as well, during the trek back to Lochstone, so much so that he'd shot her a reassuring look at one point.

She'd been able to see signs of his lingering pain, including that sporadic tightening of his lips which he likely did not even notice himself. It forced her to wonder if he might pass out again and fall off his mount in the midst of a collection of galloping horses, which would have meant death. Now that she had regained her own memories, she was certain the same had occurred when he collapsed earlier. The fact that he continued to feel pain, and was still in the process of recovering and organizing recollections, meant that his had been taken at least several years prior, and that a large quantity had been concealed. She was acutely curious as to the nature of his memories, the motivation behind their suppression, and the identity of the seer responsible, but she was patient. He would tell her what he wanted, when he was ready. She still trusted him, and knew he'd only keep something from her to protect her in some way, a knowledge which made her all the more worried about his situation.

Riza took a few hurried steps to over take his long strides and shut the door before he left. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he nodded, response clipped by pain. "We shouldn't delay. We need to..."

"There's time. Maria would've warned us of any immediate danger." She took his hand to communicate what she had in mind. "I know your headaches have returned, and that you're still re-experiencing memories. Let me help with the discomfort, at least."

He leaned back against the wall, resting his head on it as well. "How did you know?"

"Because the Dunairne cook killed herself in front of me, after giving me the news of my father's death, and I collapsed just as you did." She shrugged playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood after such dark news. "Call it an educated guess."

"Cretan _gods_." He squeezed her hand. "No wonder you left."

Her voice sobered. "May I?"

"You already helped Stevens...I don't want to weaken you."

"We'll need Captain Mustang at full strength, and don't worry about me. I have a deeper reservoir than most, and it regenerates a bit more quickly...part of my gift." When he nodded she moved closer, placing one hand on his chest while the other gently threaded their already clasped fingers. His _rivuleta vitae_ was stronger than others, intense and clear. Still, beneath that ran a current of strain, and she let her life force flow into his, guiding it up his arm to relieve the rigidity in his muscles and the pounding in his skull.

His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath, tilting his head to stretch out his neck. "That's amazing." Setting his free hand on her hip, he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Thank you."

"Go see your mother." She smiled. "I'll be with the archers."

Once back in the passageway, she pulled her hand free and he said, "Take the eastern wall, I'll take the west."

"Yes, _Captain_." With a teasing salute she turned, taking that hallway to another until she reached one of the doors that led to the ramparts. She walked to a more central point on the east-facing wall, greeting the soldiers she passed along the way while visually surveying the lawns surrounding the curtain wall. The grounds were clear and the moon was no longer so thickly blanketed, providing enough light to see that nothing moved along the forest edge. Partway through her stroll she passed Maria, who handed over her bow and quiver. "Anything?"

"I've felt hints here and there. Around six distinct groups have approached and are amassing out in the forest. I've yet had no indication that they're about to attack."

"You passed that along the wall?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." Her smile growing, she moved further along the wall and set the quiver on the stone floor to lean against the parapet, testing the tension in the bowstring out of habit. "Grandfather."

"I'm surprised to see you back so soon," he told her, still watching the night. "I got your note...I'd intended to meet you at the Rose after I'd made sure Althea was safe."

"There was a change in plan, as you've no doubt surmised." She nocked an arrow so that she'd be ready to fire at a moment's notice. "Tucker's bringing more men this way." Lowering her voice, she added, "Did Mrs. Marston's death give you any memories?"

"Yes...artful of your father to have our knowledge hidden." He took a swig of something in a flask. "Though I could've done without the migraine."

"As could I." Her eyes followed a shadow, but its source turned out to be nothing more than a cloud. "You've looked in on Althea?"

"She's recovering...the healers here are excellent. I thought we could have the archers escort her to the capital when the time came."

"That's acceptable to me." She borrowed the flask. "Maria could find no trace in her of the seer that tried to kill me."

"Whoever they are, they're frightfully talented." He waved the bow in his hand around them. "This could all be some dream I'm having."

"A reassuring thought." Taking the cured beef he handed over, she added, "Thank you. I feel as if I haven't eaten for ages."

Then her grandfather glanced at her, with one of those looks that said he suspected he already knew the answer to the question about to be asked. "And Berthold...there's no chance...?" She could only return his look and give a single, somber shake of the head. He immediately hugged her with a quiet, "I'm terribly sorry, my dear."

"So am I." Riza pulled away, blinking back the pressure behind her eyes and trying to suppress that emotion once more to avoid distraction. Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she tried to make out movement in the darkness. "Did you see that?" She could hardly make it out in the dim night, but she'd swear the shadows were moving.

"There's _something_ ," Grumman replied, joining her at the balustrade. "It's difficult to say what."

"They're moving," Maria supplied, stepping up beside them to look over the parapet. "But some activity to the west is hidden from me. I can't quite get a sense of it."

"Then our mysterious seer is at work." Riza noticed the shadows creeping closer and drew back on the bowstring, raising her bow as a signal that the archers should do the same. They followed suit, the faint creak of wood drifting all along the line of men stationed on the wall.

"Yes, I've felt a trace of them." The brunette's head tilted in concentration as her eyes clouded with purple. "I think I've found someone...familiar. I'll try to..."

The other woman's speech trailed off and the blonde continued to scan the land before her, still unable to be certain if she was seeing motion, or if the night was playing tricks on her eyes. The minutes passed slowly and she flexed her shoulders in an attempt to avoid the stiff muscles that might result from holding a bow and arrow at the ready. She tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary, but could only hear the torch flames jumping in the breeze, the rasp of leather as people shifted around her, and the occasional ring of a sword hilt bumped against stone.

Finally, just when the moon chose to reemerge from behind clouds, ten blindfolded individuals were shoved into the faint circles of torchlight dancing on the grass below. There were both men and women, judging by the skirts billowing in a light breeze, and one appeared to be younger, perhaps in his early teens based on his frame and stature. She eyed the bound woman closest to her position and tried to aim for the man standing at a distance behind her, but he was using the shadows to his advantage. There was no way to be unequivocally sure that they were not all enemies, with a few disguised as victims, but still she pulled a touch further on the bow string. She would be ready when an enemy inevitably exposed himself to some degree, and her men would follow her lead.

"Those still hiding are mecenaries, but the others are from Dunairne, my lady," Maria quietly said. "Survivors." Riza's weapon lowered a fraction and, wide-eyed, she met the woman's gaze, at which point the seer nodded. "I'm sure."

Redirecting her attention toward the people on the ground below, she continued to search for a target, but after only an indistinct whistle, arrow heads poked through chests and each of the ten prisoners fell forward. She heard herself shouting "No!" and leaned over the wall even as dark, grisly pools spread through the grass around them. For several moments her eyes simply jumped from one limp form to the next, her tensed body torn between anger and sorrow and she thought of the father she lost, her demolished home, and its many dead inhabitants. They were people she'd known all her life, that she'd help to raise or had raised her; they were her family.

She drew the bowstring back once more, this time sharply and with greater ferocity, and then Tucker's voice sang out from beyond the walls. "Lady Hawkeye! I know you're up there. Consider this a demonstration of what will happen to everyone in Lochstone Castle."

Refusing to be goaded she continued to watch patiently, sparing a glance for Maria, who was looking down in confusion at the wall beneath her feet. She had no time to make inquiries, however, because moonlight finally descended on the grounds in force and without hesitation she took aim, loosing the arrow still held at the ready. The other men followed with a wave of quarrels while she nocked a second, finding another mercenary to serve as a target. It did not take their visitors long to return fire, but she only had the opportunity to provide three more volleys and nock a fourth before the seer shouted, "Riza behind you!"

Turning on her heels, she swung her bow around to quickly fire at whoever was clambering up the stairs at her back. The Drachman blocked her forearm, gripping it tightly, and she fired past his ear before grasping her bow with both hands and whipping into the side of his head. She drew a knife and moved to swipe it across his throat but he blocked that arm also, landing a fist to her gut that had her staggering backward. As luck would have it, she stepped on an errant quiver, lost her footing, and fell against the parapet. Rolling away just in time to avoid having her stomach crushed between boot and stone, she reached out to ram her dagger through his foot. She then jumped to her feet when he staggered, pulled one of her long knives from its sheath, and thrust it into his stomach.

With a crisp yank she freed the blade and muttered in frustration, "How the _hell_ did they get inside the walls?" Seeing her grandfather in the midst of a fight, she strode forward and produced her other long knife, running them both through the attacker's kidneys. The man fell when she pulled the blades out, and it was not until that moment that she became aware of the fact that arrows no longer flew past her head. Instead, there was a more grand battle than she'd realized taking place atop the walls and within the bailey itself. A searching glance in the direction of the forest confirmed that no more figures could be discerned out on the grounds.

She was eyeing the walls, trying to judge the best course of action, and half-turned her head when Maria came up behind her and said, "They tunneled beneath the walls...with the aid of some gifted I'd expect. They're inside the _keep_ , my lady."

That news served to fan Riza's anger further for, not only were more of her people dead, but that distraction had allowed their enemies to infiltrate the castle much too easily. Battle raged everywhere and she threw a look across the vast yard to the western wall, probing in vain for an identifiable shock of black hair amongst the fighting bodies. Forcing her focus back to those nearest her, she shook the blood from her weapons and sheathed them, reclaiming her bow with a defiant clench to her jaw. She slung the quiver over her back and said, "We'll make for the door and clear the wall. Grandfather and I will pick them off...cover us, Maria." She was already striding for the small door that she'd used to reach the wall when she nocked an arrow and drew the fletching to her cheek, letting it fly at the spot of neck not protected by one mercenary's helmet. Behind her Grumman could be heard firing as she nocked again, this time sending a quarrel between two ribs of the man about to decapitate one of her archers.

"Shall I cloak you?" Maria asked between metallic clangs from her short-sword.

"No. Conserve your energy." She followed the wall, with one step putting an arrow in one enemy's scalp, and with the next cleanly firing a bolt into another's chest. Riza repeated that process over and over, finding a lethal mark for each and every projectile at her disposal until she reached back to grasp only air. At that point she whipped off her quiver and lashed it against a mercenary's face before kicking him over the parapet to tumble to the ground. Changing her grip on her bow, she hooked it around an attacker's neck and pulled him away from one of the archers, kneeing him hard in the back. As he stumbled forward, she slid her bow over his head, spun it skillfully round, and impaled him with it.

Her ammunition spent, she drew her knives once again and, gesturing to one of the Dunairne soldiers, ordered, "Jaynes...you're in command"

"My lady," the soldier replied with a bob of the head before shortly rejoining the fray.

They reached the door, her grandfather threw it open, and the trio rushed inside with weapons ready, only to be surprised by the sudden calm that met them. While out on the wall behind them men shouted and blades clanged, here the winding stairwell was empty, surprisingly devoid of conflict. That emptiness concerned her more than if they'd been met by a small legion of mercenaries, because it led her to believe that the intruders had already taken the castle, that the fighting outside was merely an ongoing distraction. That theory seemed inadequate, however, since if they had truly been overrun she would have already been captured. It was a thought that only served to increase her anxieties, as it forced her to wonder what else they might be after, if not just her. In any case, they had underestimated their enemy.

"Maria." Riza spoke low, feeling the weight of her friend's hand on her shoulder, shielding her against psychic attacks and detection as the woman reached out into the castle's halls. The seer would be unable to conceal them entirely, as that was only possible when she had a direct line of sight on her target, but she could at least partially mask their heartbeats, along with the mental energy that would serve as a beacon for another seer.

Her eyes swirled purple and, in the absence of onlookers, she did not go to the trouble of hiding it. "I sense a small group that has taken refuge in the tunnels, and another barricaded in the infirmary." The brunette took a breath, her gaze roaming that which was invisible to her companions. "Several small companies of the enemy rove the passages. The great hall _feels_ empty, but there's also residue of our mysterious seer...they may have taken hostages to that location." She paused again. "The enemy numbers are hidden from me. The other seer may not know we're here, but they've noticed something is amiss."

"Then we're running short on time."

When she caught Grumman's eye he immediately nodded. "I'll fetch the civilians trapped in Lord Hughes' chambers & meet you at the tunnel entrance."

"You two go together." Her grandfather appeared about to argue but she raised a hand to stop him. "You have farther to go...you may need her more than I do. Go."

After they separated, Riza crept silently toward the infirmary through eerily vacant halls. The muted sounds of battle echoed from other parts of the keep, suggesting that hers was not the only group to have moved indoors. Down another hall she came upon a staircase and peeked upward, listening closely for any hints of movement. It was the most direct route to the infirmary, but she did not relish the possibility of an attack in such close quarters, where she could be effortlessly boxed in if she happened to be approached from above and below.

Satisfied that the stairwell was empty, she started up in a slightly sideways motion, a long-knife held in both directions. About halfway to the next floor she abruptly stopped in response to the thud and subsequent crack of splintering wood that reached her ears. The sound repeated several times, which led her to believe that nearby an axe was being taken to a door and, based on the number of passes, the perpetrator was not terribly adept.

She kept climbing and reached the next floor, at which point her suspicions were confirmed that it was the infirmary door under attack. Riza paced softly in that direction, glancing warily down any corridor or through any doorway she passed, all the while listening to the axe-blows ahead. Finally there came a snap so loud it made her wince, followed by the creak of more splitting wood and a high-pitched scream. Pausing to peer around a corner, she saw five men at the entrance, kicking at the latch and tearing away chunks of oak in an effort to force their way in. With a prudent look around to make sure no more mercenaries were in the immediate vicinity, she moved soundlessly forward, increasing her pace upon realizing they were much too distracted to notice her arrival.

Closing the gap, she approached the rearmost soldier from behind, snaked both her blades around his neck, and simultaneously glided them across his throat. Before he could fall she kicked him into two of his comrades and they fell against the gouged door like dominoes. She then slashed at her nearest enemy and he blocked it, jumping backward to evade her other knife that swiped toward his abdomen. He hurriedly attacked, his sword careening for her chest, but she crossed her blades and deflected his weapon far enough to the left to stop his fellow Drachman's axe. Kneeing him in the groin, she shoved his sword further away and rammed one of her knives into his lung before spinning to kick the other pair back into the door.

Riza then sidestepped an arching axe swing, a breath of relief escaping her when the blade met the stone of the recessed doorway instead of her neck. The metal clanged, making her ears ring, and she gripped the handle with her free right hand, rapidly swinging her other blade at his gut. Her attacker must have made an error in judgment because he unexpectedly stepped into it and, rather than simply slicing him open, the entire length of her knife became embedded in his lower abdomen. He started to fall forward and she thrust the heel of her boot into his stomach to push him away, further sinking the weapon into his intestines in the process. He fell back and she hefted the axe, turning to face the doorway and swinging at the closest merc, who was pushing to escape the dead weight of his companions since, by some stroke of luck, her last kick had sent one merc onto his friend's sword. Her only remaining foe raised his hands in a futile effort to protect himself, but her swing was powerful and the curved edge wedged itself into both his skull and part of his forearm.

She leaned against the wall for an instant, catching her breath, and then wrenched her knives from the corpses of their respective victims. With a light, non-threatening knock on the infirmary door, she started to speak but could only utter one syllable before she was forced to throw her back against the wall and block a sword punched through the damaged door. "Easy!"

A moment of silence passed and then a familiar voice said, " _Riza_?"

"Amalia? You're supposed to be out of the damn castle."

The sword disappeared and the door swung inward, toppling the dead men still leaning against it, and she stepped into the modest office of the resident doctor. Despite the circumstances, Lady Hakuro had hardly a hair out of place, and she held the weapon in her hand with a casual skill, denoting the training she'd had after marrying into a guardian family. Gesturing toward the woman perched nervously on the edge of the desk, the most likely source of the scream earlier, she said, "Corrine and I were with the last group leaving. We were nearly to the kitchens when they came through, but we managed to hide and make our way back up here where we ran into Captain Stevens."

"My lady," the soldier greeted with a nod.

"Captain." She started to drag the bodies out of the hall and into the office with the Dunairne soldier's help.

"Grant?" Lady Hakuro asked, the fear for her husband creeping into her voice.

"Last I saw him he was fighting on the wall...he was fine." Once she had the last corpse in the room she added, "We'll make our way to the tunnel, get you both out of the castle until it's safe."

"Riza...there's something else." She looked up at Amalia, whose expression at turned somber as her head tilted subtly in the direction of the infirmary proper.

She was instantly filled with a sense of foreboding, and she strode into a longer room lined with cots with a pair of sturdy, thick tables in the center used for procedures. The first cot she passed held the sheet-shrouded corpse of Lady Roberta Morrow from the fight the day prior, which suddenly felt like years ago. That not-so-distant time when Roy had seemed to recover from his unanticipated collapse and she was cheerfully contemplating a life with him. And then Mrs. Marston turned up with borrowed memories and changed everything.

The next cot supported the Traherne messenger that had been attacked, the small structure sagging under his dead weight. In the bed beside his she found Althea, the hilt of a dagger rising from her chest and a pool of blood on the floor below. Her heart sank and she took her grandmother's hand, Amalia's voice informing her, "We were too late. I'm sorry."

"With this wound, she didn't have much time anyway." Even with her gift, Riza would have only been able to keep the woman alive for perhaps a handful of minutes. Reaching over to close her grandmother's eyes, since they were still staring vacantly at the ceiling, she contemplated their limited and often tempestuous relationship. The majority of their time together had been less than amiable, and she'd often wondered how differently those encounters might have transpired if her mother were alive. At the same time, she understood that, in her way, Althea had been trying to protect her granddaughter.

Their many quarrels aside, she'd never wished her grandmother dead, and she knew that, despite his apparently cavalier attitude toward his wife, Walter cared for her. Perhaps not in the way he did when they were first married, because Ellie's death profoundly changed the both of them, but care he did. And the fact that some Drachman probably killed her for sport just might infuriate him.

She gave Althea's already cold hand a final squeeze and then stood to reclaim her weapons, Amalia lightly patting her arm as she walked by. They had tarried long enough, and without doubt there were more of Tucker's minions searching for her. Any further goodbyes would have to wait.

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 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **AN2:** A short list of OCs and a description of who they are: Lord Cavan Traherne - Hawkeye's great-uncle, Lady Althea Grumman - Hawkeye's grandmother, Lady Lenora Mustang - Mustang's mother, General Hearn - an associate of Silaris, Anton - King of Drachma, Lady Amalia Hakuro - Lord Hakuro's wife, Captain Stevens - works for the Hawkeyes, The Morrow family - friends of Lenora/relatives of Hughes.

 **Response(s) to guest review(s):**

Isua - Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story :)


	9. The Assault on Lochstone Castle: Part 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! With absolutely no ado...here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

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 **The Assault on Lochstone Castle:** Part 2

At the outset of his interrogation of the Drachman prisoner, Roy had been apprehensive of letting Riza see that part of his life, however, after a few minutes and several memories it was all he could do to ask questions and stab the man in the correct part of the leg. While his seemingly endless headache had improved for a short period, it chose that moment to resurface with a renewed vigor, and more disorderly visions flashed before his eyes, scenes from his life he barely recognized and was unable to stave off. Thanks to her timely assistance, he left his conversation with the blonde feeling lighter, his mind relaxed if not clear, and with significantly less tension in his neck to worsen the throbbing in his skull.

Still, it was nearly enough to undo all her aid as he contemplated the startling revelation that Riza was being hunted by no less than the King of Drachma, as well as the equally surprising fact that she was in possession of the lost seal, an object presumed to be little more than myth. If he was frank, it seemed almost absurd that Anton still pursued her family after so many years, but he knew Hawkeye well, and she was not prone to spouting untruths. Though he was inclined to believe her declaration, he felt it a safe assumption that he was not yet privy to the complete story. He had a hunch there was more.

While he'd intended to look in on his mother after parting from Hawkeye, he found her sleeping and, as he did not wish to disturb her, he instead left the keep in favor of the ramparts. There he passed the next fifteen minutes walking the wall, greeting the men, and letting slip the odd self-deprecating joke to lighten the mood. All appeared normal, he could see no signs of motion in the dim night outside the walls, and as he picked up his bow to nock an arrow, he threw a covert look across the yard to check Riza's position. He spotted her blonde hair with the aid of a torch's glow, and her presence was a comfort in that period of uncertainty leading up to the coming attack. At the same time, he reminded himself that he could not be distracted by the fact she'd be fighting on the front line with him. He had the safety of an entire stronghold to worry about.

Turning to face the wilderness, he scanned the grounds, trying his best to pierce the darkness of the forest beyond. He stood that way for some time, keeping a look out and holding his bow half-drawn, prepared to react should anything happen. After a while the wind all but died, and he could no longer hear the nocturnal insects that were usually evident in the grassy field below. A full half-hour of unexpected and tense peace had gone when Breda returned from another inspection of the ramparts, quietly saying, "The bastards are certainly taking their time."

"Trying to catch us off our guard." He tilted his head upon considering another option. "Or they're planning something monumental...I like that idea less."

"Makes two of us, Cap." The soldier moved closer, lowering his voice further. "Especially since we currently have few gifted men. Park was one of the last."

Roy waved across the yard at the soldier signaling them with a torch. "The seer felt them." He let out a shrill whistle as he raised his bow, and at that wordless order his men copied the motion, all eyes scanning the land beyond the walls. Then several individuals were thrust out of the darkness, but that was all he saw because a peculiar rumbling drew his gaze back to the bailey. He turned to see a bizarre motion at the base of the staircase nearest his position, a rippling in the dirt that reminded him of a lake's surface on a breezy day, as if the ground itself was no longer solid.

Arrows now whistled everywhere but still he watched the yard, and then a seam split in the lawn, revealing a dirt stairway up which raced a company of mercenaries. He fired the one quarrel he held at the ready, stretching for his quiver to loose again and shouting, "Breda! They're inside the walls!" He continued to pick them off as well as he could, but eventually several invaders reached the halfway point of the staircase and he was forced to drop his bow in favor of his sword. He slashed hurriedly downward to push a blade out of the way, kicking the oncoming mercenary in the chest to shove him backward and stop him from gaining any additional ground.

Finally Breda's shouts reached the full length of the wall, and any archers not already engaged in hand-to-hand combat provided whatever support they could. It was short-lived given that mercenaries still poured from three massive tunnel openings around the yard, but it was enough for him to be able to fight the group he faced back toward ground level. He sliced open one man's neck and, when the next soldier tripped over the body, he caught him by jabbing a sword through his chest.

After drawing his weapon out, he hurried up to the ramparts and pointed the blade at his tracker, "Fuery, with me." Making his way along the wall, he found the other soldier he was looking for and added, "Breda, as soon as you regain control out here, send men into the keep. Bastards probably tunneled right in."

"Will do, Cap."

"This way, Fuery." He sprinted toward another set of stairs, slashing at enemies whenever necessary and fruitlessly trying to catch a glimpse of Hawkeye in the melee. Halfway down the staircase he was forced to jump off the side, his momentum carrying him into a roll from which he rose fluidly to his feet.

Breaking into a sprint once more, he weaved in and out of the fighting, at one point dropping to slide on his knees below a long sword that swung across his path while reaching out with his own weapon to swipe at the man's side. He then rose, trying to jump over a pair of fighters that fell to the ground, but was tripped in the attempt and crashed downward himself. An exploitative attacker hoped to take advantage of the moment of weakness, bringing a sword around to stab him, but Roy swept his legs from beneath him and grabbed the man's calf when he dropped. With his left hand he pushed down on the ankle and with his right put upward pressure on the knee, using the soldier's weight to pull himself upward before torquing the limb sharply to dislocate the hip.

He climbed laboriously to his feet as Fuery finished the mercenary off and they continued their run until they reached the door to the kitchens, located clear across the yard from where they began. It was in the process of being opened from the inside and he kicked at the door, ramming the slab of heavy oak back into the intruder and sandwiching him between wood and stone. Whipping the door open a second later, he added a vein of tempered steel to the enemy soldier's chest and shoved him back into the kitchen, inhaling sharply at the sensation of a knife biting into his hand.

"Shit." Roy yanked the door shut and eyed the cut on the back of his sword hand, quickly searching the kitchen for anything he could use to stem the flow of blood. He settled for what he hoped was a clean towel lying on the large, heavy table in the center of the room, tearing off a strip and wrapping it around the injury.

"My gift won't be any use in here, Captain. There's nothing for me to communicate with," Fuery said, following him beneath an archway and into another room.

"I know." He eyed the dead bodies of his own soldiers near the tunnel entrance in that part of the keep and muttered, "Cretan gods." Wiping sweat from his brow with the makeshift bandage, he gestured for the tracker the follow him and said, "It's not your gift I need. You're quiet and quick. We need to find Lord and Lady Hughes, and we're going to take out all the invaders we come across."

Roy pushed a door open a few inches to peek out into the corridor and the pair silently slipped into a servants' corridor, passing several shadowed doorways until they reached the entrance to one of the less frequently used first floor parlors. Opening that door a crack as well to verify it was empty, he led the way inside and started to palpate the wall at the right side of the fireplace. He depressed one stone and a hidden entrance revealed itself, accompanied by a dull scrape of rock and the faint whoosh of air entering a passage that had not been opened in decades, if not longer.

After heaving the door closed behind them, Roy led the way up a narrow, winding, and unlit set of stairs. The air was damp and musty, the dust kicked up by their boots irritating his lungs, and he was forced to keep one hand on the unseen wall to guide himself by touch. He stepped on something that squelched unnervingly but continued all the same, nearly crashing face first into the wall at the end of the passage. Feeling around at approximately the same height he'd found the first stone, he pressed one and pushed at the door with nearly all his body weight.

He was extremely surprised to step into an empty room, excepting the two dead guards lying near the end of the bed, and rushed to check Lady's Hughes' quarters, finding those vacant as well. When he returned to Hughes' rooms he searched again, as if his friend would have appeared in his brief absence, a feeling of incertitude settling in his gut. "Her ladyship should be here, at the very least." He stopped in the center of the room, gaze moving from side to side. "This feels... _wrong_."

"I agree," Fuery quietly replied.

"I can't describe it," Roy continued, moving to check the corridor, but instead he raised his weapons as the door began to open.

"Like you're being watched, perhaps?" a gut-wrenchingly familiar voice asked, Lady Silaris Morrow sashaying into the room. He heard rather than saw more men enter from Lady Hughes' chambers, who must have been hidden by a seer he assumed to be the woman now standing before him, and in response he brought his sword to graze her carotid artery. Her eyes narrowed, more in amusement or curiosity than concern, and she shook her head once, like he was some fool that she pitied for being out of his depth. He continued to watch her, even as he heard shuffling noises from the other set of rooms, and then someone was kicked to the floor. He did not have to look to know it was Riza, to recognize her voice when a soft groan left her, and the self-satisfied smirk on Silaris' face as he handed his weapon to one of the soldiers was maddening. "I thought so."

One mercenary knocked Fuery unconscious and another yanked Roy to one side, roughly binding his hands, and he stole a look at Hawkeye, endeavoring to evaluate her injuries, which were not as extensive as he'd predicted. There was bruising around her left eye, a touch of blood near one corner of her mouth, and she was slowly pushing herself up off the floor, an action made difficult with her wrists tied together. Two of the invaders were just bending to grab her arms to lift her when another man strode from Lady Hughes' quarters and barked, "Don't touch her, idiots!" Tucker crouched in front of her with a cruel glint in his eye and a smirk to rival that of his seer. "It's truly a shame your father couldn't join us." He chuckled to himself, stopping abruptly when she seemed less than pleased, and asked, "Too soon?"

"A bit," she replied, on her feet once again.

Roy was shoved forward to stand beside Riza, and Lady Morrow passed by looking gleeful, idly placing a couple fingers under his chin prior to stopping in front of the blonde. She looked the woman over and waved a hand between the prisoners, saying, "You two were adorable...glances across the room, secret conversations, stealing away to each other's quarters." She shrugged a shoulder, tapping her own temple with a finger. "I knew, of course."

"Maybe, but you didn't know everything. You just couldn't get in my head, could you?" the blonde asked.

"No, not the Captain's either. And I can tell you that's been frustrating."

"I imagine so." Riza's lips quirked. "All that effort you went to...always finding a reason to touch him. Here I thought it was just unrequited affection."

Silaris smiled, moving to face him and place a hand on his chest. "It's odd. I never had an inkling that your mother asked mine to take your memories. What _were_ they trying to hide, I wonder?"

Her hand shot to his forehead and pain seared through his skull, not unlike that which afflicted him during his collapse. He dropped to his knees and, in the haze, heard Riza reply, "Leave him _alone_. He has nothing to do with this." It felt like shards of glass were slicing through his head, his entire body stiffened in response, and what was likely blood trickled from his nose.

"That's enough, seer," Tucker forcefully interjected.

The pain disappeared, echo-like throbs charging through his cranium, and he did not realize he'd lost his balance until he smacked down onto stone. His ears rang as though he'd just survived a nearby explosion, and red drops fell on his hands while he tried to push himself up. A couple soldiers dragged him jerkily to his feet but his legs were unsound beneath him, giving him the sensation that he might drop again at any time. Catching Riza's gaze for an instant, he gave her a minuscule nod to reassure her that he was unharmed.

A few feet away Silaris still argued with Tucker and, when he regained the ability to hear properly, she was saying, "…more useful than you think. He's had memories hidden going back sixteen years, and I've no doubt that's significant. Surely you're intelligent enough to understand that."

"We're here for the leech, not your ridiculous infatuation with that worthless little worm."

"This isn't _personal_ , you arrogant pig, it's about what best serves his majesty. _And_..." she finished, turning to look at Hawkeye. "...having Mustang in our possession will make her much more pliant."

Roy snorted his skepticism, covertly fiddling with his bonds and eyeing the room to plan their escape. "I fear you've misunderstood us."

"Yes, Lady Morrow, I'd have to agree with the Captain." Tucker approached Riza and gripped her jaw with a gauntlet shrouded hand. "She may be the guardian, but they're both soldiers. They know an important fight when they see one, and they won't tell you a thing, no matter what you do to the other. You'll have to take it by force." He shrugged. "It's a bit cold, perhaps, but they both understand. And I must say I respect your devotion to your cause, guardian, even if it's pointless."

"Shall we, seer?" It was the blonde's turn to set a fingertip on her temple. "I should warn you, I tend to choose the hard way."

"That's a happy coincidence," Silaris replied. "I rather enjoy the hard way."

With a sword at her throat the blonde was directed to a chair that had been moved to the center of the room, and more rope was brought to secure her back and legs to the furnishing. The seer stationed herself behind the other woman, placing her hands on either side of her head, careful not to contact the skin. Roy watched from where he stood near the bed, the two women several feet to the left and in front of him, at an angle that barely afforded him a profile view. It was not long before Riza's breaths hastened and her bonds strained in reaction to the pain resulting from the seer's efforts. Just then Hearn stepped into the room, gave Tucker a meaningful look, and the Drachman general followed him into the corridor, saying, "All entrances into the keep have been sealed...no one else should be able to bother you. Get her to talk, then kill her. And make it fast."

"Everyone out," Silaris said as an afterthought, her attention almost entirely consumed by her attack on Hawkeye's mind.

His eyes darted to the mercenaries marching through the door after the pair of generals, then to the next pair coming for him and Fuery. Checking on the blonde, he could just make out the blood already flowing from her nares, and when she cried out his stomach tightened. The very castle shook ominously, the iron grate in the fire rattling, and he did his best to ignore it for the time being, though it disquieted him immensely. One soldier reached for his arm and another made to grab the unconscious tracker's feet, at which point Lady Morrow suddenly turned, put a hand on each mercenary's head, and the men dropped to the floor like felled trees.

She hurried to close both doors that led into the suite of rooms and then, drawing a knife, she sliced through his bonds. Handing him the weapon, she said, "Before you try to violently retaliate...I had to make it look real."

While the seer knelt near Fuery's head he rushed to Hawkeye, cutting her free of the chair and liberating her wrists. Her head rested against the seat-back, eyes closed, and he gently cupped her face, his other hand wiping the blood from beneath her nose with a handkerchief. With a deep inhalation she woke, her expression instantly irate, and she jumped to her feet, crossing the room in astonishingly few steps to grab Lady Morrow by the arm and slam her against the wall. Placing a hand around the woman's neck, she demanded, "What the hell did you do to me?"

"Nothing, obviously. I only made them _believe_ I was probing your mind. It needed to be convincing."

"You're aware that I only need a fraction of a second to kill you, yes?"

"Riza," he softly said, placing a hand on her arm as a signal that she should lower it. "I don't know why, but she helped us."

"I'm a guardian," Silaris began, irritation in her tone. "I tried to _show_ her, but she was fighting me."

"Of course I was, I'm not in the habit of opening my mind to every seer I meet." Her head cocked to one side, as though she were reading the woman's life force as one would a book, and then her hand relaxed its grip. "But you're not lying...I'd have felt any duplicity. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm still Silaris Morrow." The other woman reached for part of her dress, pulling it just off her shoulder to reveal the tattoo on her upper arm. It depicted a small skull with a rose blooming out of one eye, but that flower was the only similarity it bore to the mark he'd wanted to sketch earlier. "But I also bear the mark of a guardian. And you're welcome, by the way."

"For the headache you've given me? Or for the time I suspect you had my grandmother try to stab me?"

"Definitely for the first." She shrugged. "As for the second...I knew you could get out of it, leech."

Hawkeye was silent a moment. "The Delzievan family?"

"Yes, and you're a Lukyan if I ever saw one, your grace." She gave a deferential bow of the head and eyed the leather band on Hawkeye's wrist. "Still, if you don't mind..."

Roy watched in puzzlement, because he'd seen no sign that Riza had a tattoo, and in fact he'd seen that very appendage mere hours earlier without finding a blemish of any kind. However, in sliding off the cuff the blonde unveiled the image of a delicate rose in full bloom, from either side of which wound thorned vines, coiling around her wrist and each other like the creepers that grow up the side of an old building. It was doubtless the mark that the seer had shown him and, if he had continued to harbor even the faintest incertitude regarding what she'd prophesied, it vanished in that instant. He took her hand without a thought, running a thumb over the ink, and when he looked up both women were watching him with expressions of extreme mystification.

Riza's gaze flicked down to their joined hands then back up to his eyes and, upon a realization, she said, "You've seen this before."

He nodded, head tilting in response to the sound of soldiers passing by in the corridor beyond as he took his weapons from Fuery. "But it seems we'll have to add that to the growing list of topics to be discussed later."

"It does." Reaching down to remove a length of rope still wrapped around his left wrist, she addressed the other woman. "I assume you can fight, seer?"

"Of course, your grace. Tucker is holding Lady Hughes in the great hall...they must have captured her in the tunnels."

"Was that an opportunistic move, or do they know why we need her?"

"They know."

"And I presume you've stopped blocking Maria?"

"Naturally. She and Lord Grumman are leading civilians to safety as we speak." The seer grasped the door latch, her eyes swirling green. "One guard just beyond the door and another pair across the hall."

Roy and Fuery positioned themselves facing the door and, when the seer flung it open, rammed both their swords into the waiting soldier's back, shoving him toward the other men. While in the process of pulling the blade free, he felt a hand at his side and saw Riza take his knife to dig it into one of the now pinned mercenaries' throats. At the same moment Lady Morrow used her talents to render the third man unconscious, and when their weapons were removed the invaders slid to the floor, leaving streaks of blood on the wall. The blonde handed him his dagger, accepting her still sheathed knives from the seer, which must have been in the possession of one of the unfortunate soldiers. "Thank you."

"Do you wish to avoid enemies, or find them, your grace?"

"We'll engage only if we must...quietly, of course. Our priority is rescuing Lady Hughes and neutralizing Tucker," she replied, securing the leather belt around her hips, a little smile on her lips. "Unless you have a different preference, Captain."

"No objections here." He fell into step beside Hawkeye as the seer led them down the hall, silently wondering why Lady Morrow repeatedly employed the style of address 'your grace' when speaking to her fellow guardian. It was generally reserved for dukes and duchesses and the like, which were of a higher standing than that occupied by the Hawkeye family. It served as further proof that there was more to be learned.

A soft whistle from Lady Morrow claimed his attention. "We've company."

"How many and where?" he asked.

"Two, escorting Lord Hughes. They just came up the stairs and will be passing the door to your quarters in forty seconds, Captain."

He caught Riza's gaze and, already having an idea of what she was thinking, he nodded. "I'll circle around behind them." He tossed his sword to Fuery when the blonde handed him a knife from her boot and, after returning her smirk, he turned to sprint back the way they'd come. Eventually the hall curved toward the stairs but he ducked into a door and cut through the lounge on that floor, passing several chairs clustered around a table to his left and vaulting over a sofa that happened to block his trajectory. Reaching the far end of the room, he put an ear to the door and waited until the soldiers passed, then slowly squeezing the latch and pulling it open.

Steps silent, he moved into the hallway just as Riza revealed herself. "Looking for me?"

The mercenaries hesitated, sharing a confused look, and Roy used that millisecond of surprise to move closer and plunge a blade into each of their necks. "Alright, my lord?" he asked, handing one weapon back to the blonde and with the other severing the ropes around Hughes' wrists.

" _Yes_ ," his friend replied, frustrated. "I was trying to lead Gracia to safety when the fucking bastards found us. They took her, I don't know where, but I swear if they hurt her I'll remove all their fucking heads with the dullest blade I can find." When Lady Morrow rounded the corner his features instantaneously took on an impressive glare, and he quickly demanded, "What the _hell_ is she doing with you? She's working with _them_."

"She's a guardian...and no, I'm not convinced she can be trusted. But she did free us, and we'll need her to save Lady Hughes."

Maes watched the seer with unveiled suspicion, and some exasperation. "All these uncertainties are becoming a thorn in my side, Mustang."

"I know. There will be time for more explanations when we get through this." Sheathing his weapons, he bent to grab the booted feet of one of the guards. "For now, help me get them into my rooms. I have an idea."

* * *

After approximately twenty minutes, and a slight wardrobe change for two members of their party, the group filed out of his quarters and into the passageway. Lady Morrow imperiously took the lead, while a newly disguised Hughes and Fuery took up the roles vacated by the recently departed mercenaries. Maes repeatedly fiddled with the helmet he wore to hide his face, and Kain simply looked apprehensively in all directions. In the center Roy walked beside Riza, both with hands once again bound, if only loosely this time.

His plan was risky, to be sure, but they had little choice in light of Gracia's capture and the periodic rumbles that led him the believe the fight outdoors was not going as well as could be hoped. The quickest means of victory would be to remove the head of the proverbial snake, and to do that they needed to employ unexpected tactics, to catch the intruders by surprise. That said, he was banking on Tucker's extreme arrogance and unparalleled greed to cloud his judgment, thus the man would be less likely to be distrustful of their arrival.

As they descended another set of stairs he glanced at the blonde to his right, saw the smears of blood still looming on her person, the signs of the fighting she'd seen out on the walls. He did not relish seeing her in danger, and it's true that he'd briefly wished he could take her far from Lochstone, somewhere distant from Tucker and murderous Drachmans and pesky mercenaries. However, much as they'd like to protect each other, it was in neither of their natures to run from a fight. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Soon Lady Morrow turned back to give them a small nod and, once the guards standing outside the great hall finally came into view, she said with her usual snarky tone, "Open the doors, _idiots_."

Hughes pushed him into the room after her, dutifully playing the mercenary, but the tension in his friend's gait when Gracia came into view did not go unnoticed. From his seat on the bricks in front of the fire Tucker observed them with heavy-lidded eyes and an unpleasant curl to his mouth. "Well?"

"Well _what_?" Silaris bit back. "I barely had any time to work, what with Mustang breaking free and causing trouble. He killed the useless guards you left me...you're just lucky I'm so talented."

"Yes, talented enough to accomplish _nothing_." The man paced toward Hawkeye, looking her up and down in a way that suggested he was imagining everything he might do if given the chance. With a hand in her hair to force her to look up while his other waved in Lady Hughes' direction, he asked, "Does she know where it is?"

"I'm the only person that has what you need." She raised her bound hands to point at the side of her head. "It's all right here, and you'll _never_ get it. I fear Anton will be disappointed."

"Such confidence, leech..." In a quick motion he punched her in the stomach, and she doubled over with a grunt that was half cough. "...but I'm afraid you're mistaken. Isn't it the varients that are immune to your abilities?"

With no further preamble General Hearn made his way toward her, his expression much too satisfied for Roy's liking, and threw a punch with such force that her head whipped to the left with a worrisome snap. The grey-haired soldier then wrapped his fingers around her neck and began to squeeze, the blonde struggling to draw in shallow gasps of air. "I've been looking forward to this, Lady Hawkeye. We'll be fort..." He abruptly fell silent and threw her against the wall with that great strength possessed by his kind, dizzily shuffling backward and nearly tripping over a minute crease in the stone floor.

Riza smirked as Fuery mercilessly yanked her off the floor. "They're never immune to _all_ of us, Tucker. Next time do your research."

"No matter, that was merely the simplest solution. I've others." Addressing one of the soldiers nearest Gracia, he said, "Kill her if the bitch even tries to drain me." He then took another step toward the blonde, taking the wrought iron poker handed to him by a still unsteady Hearn and twirling it so the thicker, sturdier handle-end was pointed at her. It would still cause substantial damage, but she'd likely survive longer than if he used the forked portion. "Now...where is it?" When she stayed silent, his mouth turned upward into an expression more genuinely entertained than his usual cocky sneer. Tossing the poker again, this time he caught it by the robust handle and, without warning, swung it at her thigh.

Hawkeye stifled a shout when one of the prongs pierced flesh, and she would have fallen to her knees were it not for the tracker keeping her upright. For his part, Roy's jaw clenched securely, and with such alacrity that he might have chipped a tooth. He tried to lunge forward in a brazen and poorly planned attempt to throttle the man with his bare fucking hands, but Hughes held him securely in place. He continued to make a show of trying to shake loose, because every aspect of the performance had to be believable for their ploy to work. Tucker had to believe he was in complete control, and they had to patiently await a more propitious moment.

"Where is it, you piece of shit leech?" When she once more maintained that defiant speechlessness, he flicked a couple fingers and General Hearn stepped forward. Hands newly gloved, he yanked her forward and brought a punch to her jaw that sent her reeling, after which Roy felt Maes' hand prudently clamp down on his arm to keep him in place. The interrogation proceeded in much the same vein for nearly a quarter of an hour, until Tucker made a blindly arrogant move common to the captor in such situations. He finally let down his guard, distracted by his frustration, and Roy had to fight the contented grin that tried to overtake his features whilst he imperceptibly loosened the rope circling his wrists.

The Drachman borrowed a glove from his subordinate and raked a finger over the cut on her jaw. "I'm so fucking tired of asking this question. Where...is...the _seal_?"

"Did you kill him?"

"Your father? I'm afraid that honor was not mine. Where's the seal?"

"Fuck you."

Hand moving to grip her neck, his voice lowered and turned baleful. "Tell me, or I'll start removing body parts from people you care about. I like to do that when I run out of patience." As if to demonstrate his intentions, Tucker released her from his grasp and positioned himself in front of Roy, still wielding the poker. "I hear you're rather fond of Captain Mustang. Perhaps I'll sev..."

"You'll not dare," another voice said, and Roy looked up sharply because, impossible as it seemed, the newcomer sounded unexpectedly familiar. His eyes widened when his mother appeared from behind Gracia, one of the multiple servants' doors closing behind her, and strode angrily toward the Drachman general. "We had a deal, Tucker. You get Lady Hawkeye, and you leave my son alone."

"Just a few harmless threats between friends, I assure you, Lady Mustang," the general replied dismissively. "The guardian's a bit more tight-lipped than I'd like."

"How unfortunate for you, but I'm afraid that's not my problem. I did my part, I helped you find her. Now, let my son _go_."

"Cretan gods," Roy could not help but interject. " _You_ brought them here?"

Lenora spared him a quick look, but otherwise chose to ignore her son for the time being. "Free him, Tucker"

"You've no right to give me orders, woman." The man turned to pace haughtily in her direction. "And you've failed to notice the problem you do have, _my lady_. I don't need you anymore." With an unconcerned wave he said, "Hearn."

In an instant the gray-haired man was behind her, a sword poked through her chest, and as if from a distance Roy heard himself shout, "NO!" While Tucker's back was still turned to him, and Hearn yet far enough removed to not pose an immediate threat, he stepped forward, freeing nearly a foot of rope from his wrists to loop around the Drachman's neck. Then he kneed the man in the spine to force him to arch backwards and spun, yanking him over his shoulder and tossing him to the floor, his neck snapping in the process.

By the time he straightened, Riza was already sliding across the walnut dining table to kick the guard watching over Gracia, leaving a dark red trail on the tabletop from her injured leg, and his mother lay in a widening pool of blood. Taking Tucker's sword from where it had been propped on the wall, he searched for Hearn but the man was nowhere to be seen. He settled for drawing the weapon to slice through the liver of the one of Fuery's attackers, after which he rounded on another Drachman, lunging with a low thrust to the left that his opponent managed to glance away with a parry. He stayed close, knocking his enemy's blade from his hand with a forceful blow and then curving the weapon back around to run through his left lung.

In a swift motion Roy then twisted right to crack the sword's pommel into another man's nose and kick him over one of the long wooden tables. Raising the blade to one side, he blocked a thrust, ran his sword along that of the Drachman to keep it stationary, and deftly raked metal across his throat. He was turning to search for Hawkeye and Lady Hughes when a smoke-gray snarling creature flew by in a voracious streak. The canine growl hinted that he would finally face the mysterious wolf that had plagued them of late, and when he got a look at the animal's cold eyes they told him where Hearn had disappeared to for so long. Even for a practiced varient the transition could take time.

That first rumbling growl was followed by an outcry of surprise and pain, and he hurried after the creature, sweeping the sword in a low, powerful arc. He felt resistance and the animal whimpered, leaping off it's current victim, toppling Fuery in it's haste, and dragging the tracker out of the room by latching onto his shoulder. Roy dropped the sword in favor of a dagger, following the pair out into the passageway at a careful jog and fearing he might be accosted by the screams of his dying friend at any second. Yet, to his amazement, he heard nothing.

He saw the bloodied tracker lying several feet away, but had only taken a step when he was tackled by the monstrous wolf, bowled over in a tangle of limbs by the force of the impact. He kicked out and heard a fleshy thud, but teeth clamped down on his arm nonetheless, and an involuntary shout left him as fangs perforated his skin. Roy twisted the knife so the blade rested along his forearm, shifting and maneuvering the weapon in an attempt to slice some part of the creature's mandible. He must have succeeded because there was a shrill whine and the varient scuttled off him, blood trickling from both sides of his maw.

The wolf rose on all fours little more than a yard distant and they paused momentarily, sizing each other up, deciding on the best attack. He barely managed to lunge out of the way when the animal dove for him, his mind still sifting through strategies. Prepared for the next attack, he let Hearn tackle him to the ground again, but to his dismay the knife skittered away. Thus, with one hand on the beast's neck to aid in dodging the snaps of that jaw, the other tried to use the rope dangling from one wrist to neutralize the mouthful of fangs coming for him. Try as he might, he could not wrap the cord around the wolf's muzzle, and he was forced to place the creature in a kind of head lock, which was difficult to say the least. Claws dug into him but he ignored it, bringing his leg around to pin Hearn further as he looked for the knife, jaw clenching ruefully when he found it was several feet out of reach. It was then he caught the glare of torchlight from the far end of the corridor, essentially reminding him that he had another weapon at his disposal.

He lashed out with his knee, shoving the animal to the left while he rolled out from under him and rose slowly. They circled each other, and this time when the varient leapt toward him he basically caught him, cocking his head to one side to evade a bite. He fell to the ground in a backward roll, using the animal's momentum and a strong kick to the gut to send him flying over his head. Claws scraped at the stone floor as Roy climbed smoothly to his feet, sending a column of flame from his palm to wind around Hearn. Additional orange-red trails flew from the two torches now behind him to join the first, writhing together until the wolf was utterly engulfed, the scent of burning flesh nearly suffocating him. He coaxed the flames until they burned hotter, brighter, and when he let them dissipate shortly thereafter, nothing remained of the varient but a pile of ash that soon vanished in the currents of air rushing through the passage in the aftermath.

He turned to find Fuery staring at the place the wolf had been, the tracker's shoulder and leg bleeding profusely. After picking up the knife he took the man's uninjured arm and threw it over his shoulders to help him walk, giving him a sidelong glance. "Not a word, Kain. To _anyone_."

"Not a word, Cap." His voice was terse with discomfort, and tinged with what might have been disquiet in the wake of what he'd witnessed.

They'd advanced several yards when two of Tucker's men came upon them from a corridor that crossed their own. The Drachmans must have been one of the groups tasked with surveillance, and were likely unaware the general was currently lying dead in the great hall a short distance away. The pairs regarded each other with some surprise, and Roy shifted the dagger in his grip, drawing a second from Fuery's belt. Then, quite suddenly, the invaders crumpled to the ground in a heap and Riza came into view, her hands lowering from where they'd touched the men to drain their life force. She stepped over them, favoring her injured leg only slightly, and said, "Hearn?"

"Taken care of...Your leg?"

"Lady Morrow found the mercenary healer and forced him to help me." She looked them over, the bloody mess that they were, and when her gaze found his her eyes displayed the concern she felt. "It seems he has more work to do."

The trio returned to the great hall and, after lifting Fuery on a table to be aided by the healer, he moved to another where his mother lay. Pressure grew behind his eyes but he set his jaw and fought to subjugate the impulse to mourn; he could not yet afford to let grief take over. At the same time his outrage threatened to overcome all other emotions. The anger directed at Tucker was far from insignificant, given the man had ordered Lenora's death with the same nonchalance one exhibits when ordering an ale, but he could not completely ignore the indignation aimed at his own mother. Not only had Roberta Morrow taken his memories at her request, she had _traded_ Riza to the Drachmans, for reasons that were a mystery to him, and he suspected that transgression would prove difficult to overlook.

As if aware of the dark trajectory of his thoughts, not to mention sympathetic to his feelings of loss, the blonde came to stand at his side, subtly taking his hand. They shared a look, equal parts weary and crestfallen, and he laced his fingers with hers, marveling at her ability to ease his sullen mind with so modest a gesture. Exhaling slowly, he let the peaceful moment and her presence work whatever magic they could because, though the night was far from young, there was much to be done.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)


	10. The Lost Seal of Ryurik

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope life is treating you well!

First, a quick head's up. Since I haven't been great at posting regularly for this one, I've starting adding a 'planned next post' date to the story description whenever I have a better idea when the next chapter will be ready. If you're ever curious when the next post might be up, feel free to check there :)

Also, I totally forgot to include the list of original characters at the end of the last chapter, so I've made sure to add it to this one.

Finally, thank you to everyone that's read, followed, favorited, reviewed, or any combination thereof. The interest and support is wonderful! And now, on to the chapter! I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

 **The Lost Seal of Ryurik**

Roy glanced at the mantel clock for the thousandth time that morning, if only to give his mind an alternative occupation to racing. The respite was predictably short-lived, however, his thoughts soon returning to their frenetic state, and he was helpless to stop it. Not for the first time his gaze was drawn to the woman still sleeping soundly in his bed, and that look opened a cavern in his chest, not to mention that it sent his ruminations into an even greater flurry. And it was indescribably bothersome that all this mental chaos stemmed from one tiny, undeniable, insurmountable fact hidden away in his borrowed recollections: he was royalty.

It was for that reason that he now held a glass of whiskey at ten o'clock in the morning, alternately watching the amber liquid and the blonde. Because _he_ was the descendant of the overthrown King Ryurik, _he_ was the rightful heir to the goddamn throne of Drachma, and _she_ was his guardian. Her family had protected his for three full centuries before the usurpation and, in fact, the argument could be made that they had continued to do so even after their exile, albeit unknowingly.

And yet only hours prior he'd thought the weight was finally lifting.

The battle for Lochstone Castle had come to a swift end not long after General Shao Tucker unceremoniously met his in the great hall. Upon presentation of his body in the bailey, the remaining mercenaries set down their weapons, fighting for coin rather than conviction, and the Dracmans still fighting for the latter were soon dealt with as well. Then the time came to regroup and care for the fallen, and during that period Roy helped in any way he could, from staunching wounds to moving the bodies of friend and foe alike. Meanwhile, he knew, Riza had traversed the stronghold multiple times, providing her brand of assistance to any that needed it. His fatigue had been immense, and he could barely imagine her own after her donations of _rivuleta vitae_ to many of the injured.

At one point Hughes finally ordered them to rest, and they had made their way to his chambers together, joking about Breda's maple syrup-doused ash cakes (which he claimed were the most delicious in the world) and teasing each other about looking half-dead (she tried to tell him it was a compliment in Drachman, but he knew enough of the language to know that was a lie). She'd fallen asleep before he was even able to finish a desperately needed glass of water, and he loved the way she grinned sleepily when he joined her, pressing a light kiss to the back of her neck.

In that moment, with an arm around her and the blissful haziness of sleep approaching, he was optimistic. Whatever was transpiring they would unravel, any forthcoming obstacle they would annihilate, and at the end of it all, whenever that came, they would find a place for themselves. _Perhaps Dunairne if it still existed, or Lochstone, or even that cottage overlooking the lake_ , he happily thought as slumber took him. Optimism, however, turned out to be a fickle thing, for it vanished as soon as he woke to find his constant headache altogether gone and his memories abruptly _intact_.

The entire experience was unsettling. He was falling asleep at her side, and then two hours later voices out in the corridor roused him from a deep sleep and he simply knew. Everything. From how he'd discovered at the age of seven that he was gifted, to when he learned that gift's significance at fifteen, to why his mother drugged him and had her friend essentially excise parts of his life from his mind. He even comprehended her motives for making a deal with Tucker, though he still disapproved of her methods. He had not yet decided whether or not he agreed with her overall goal.

The narrative speeding through his head began two hundred years ago, amidst the bedlam of a palace overrun, when King Ryurik sent the royal seal away with his most trusted friend and adviser, and sent his only child to safety with a visiting Xingese dignitary that managed to find a means of escape. Though an ostensibly illogical choice, the king knew that his traitorous half-brother would assume the crown prince had been spirited away to freedom by the ever-reliable Lukyan, and thus the obligatory search for Ryurik's progeny would be focused on a capable guardian instead of a defenseless toddler. As a result, Roy's ancestry followed a vastly different trajectory than it ought have, his family traveling from Xing, through Amestris to Aerugo until eventually ending up in Creta, where he was born. It was a sobering truth, to know that his existence was entirely dependent upon his great-great-great-grandfather's sacrifice. Had Ryurik chosen differently, Roy Mustang may not exist at all.

All this was at least mildly vexing, and it forced him to re-examine his future to some extent, but the actual culprit for his brooding was the near certain knowledge that, if he told Riza, she would distance herself from him. She had been raised as a guardian, he was her king and, as everyone knew, in terms of society at large royalty existed on an entirely distinct plane. She was clearly devoted to her obligations as guardian and he feared that, should she discover his true identity, it could shatter their relationship as he knew it. He'd all too recently recognized that he never cared about anything more than her, and the idea of losing her in any sense of the word terrified him.

The loud banging on his door courtesy of Breda came much too soon and, pacing to the door, he hid the glass of whiskey behind it as he swung it inward. "I'm awake...thank you. Any developments?"

"The wounded have been cared for, and we found the gifted merc that destroyed the walls and tunneled them in."

"Where did they find him?"

"Below ground. A few escaping mercs collapsed one of his tunnels and he was knocked unconscious in the mess."

He might normally have chuckled at that turn of events, but his mood kept mirth at bay. "We'll be down shortly."

If the soldier noticed anything amiss in his captain's demeanor, he knew better than to ask, and when he disappeared Roy turned to see Riza stirring, sighing with notable exasperation. "Any idea what time it is?"

"I told him to wake me in five hours...so about ten," he replied, returning to his spot in front of the fire to somewhat covertly set his glass atop the mantel, secreting it behind the clock. She nodded reluctantly and disentangled herself from the sheets, standing to dress and looking over at him curiously. With one leg in her trousers, she appeared about to speak, but he beat her to it. "Your goodbyes aren't necessary...I'm coming with you."

"Roy..." She shook her head, throwing a shirt on over her undergarments while crossing the room toward him. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm making a declaration...I'm coming with you, whatever that entails."

"It entails quite a bit," she replied. "You don't understand. This is about more than the seal, and it's bigger than what happened here last night."

"So I gathered." His voice was quiet as he slipped off his own shirt, exchanging it for a fresh one from the wardrobe. "You're a Lukyan...as in a descendant of Lukyan Milorad, the guardian that was meant to serve as regent in the event anything befell Ryurik. And that position was hereditary in Drachma, to help ensure there was always a ruler." Her intelligent eyes landed on him, now full of incredulity. "You're the heir to the regency. _That's_ why they're after you. If you claim that title, Anton could have a rebellion on his hands."

Her lips parted in surprise. " _How_ could you know that?" He only hesitated an instant, but it was enough. "You _remembered_ it. Have you recalled anything else?"

The last thing he wanted to do was lie to her, but he selfishly could not tell her everything. Not yet. And he felt indescribably weak, cowardly even, when he took her hand and instead said, "I'll tell you everything, but I need time."

Her eyes widened with concern and she cupped his face briefly, letting her hand slide down to his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He squeezed the hand he held in an attempt at reassurance. "It's quite a lot to process and, if you're willing, I'd like to hold off on sharing the details. For now."

She watched him a bit longer and, though her worry did not abate, she nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you." With a dip of his head and a hand on her hip he kissed her. "I _am_ aware of how lucky I am, by the way."

"I certainly hope so."

Gaze losing focus thoughtfully, he added, "Speaking of rebellion...in two centuries, why has there never been one?"

"We've lacked the forces to make victory possible. During and after the usurpation the surviving guardian families scattered. We're still finding each other, and the Avgar line has always excelled at keeping its people weak." She reached up to needlessly shift a lock of his hair. "I don't _want_ to leave...you understand that, right? I only wish to keep you from the threat that follows me. Now that they know who I am, they'll never stop coming."

"We're back to this? I can handle a little danger, Lady Hawkeye."

"I know that, but..."

He shook his head, a gentle interruption, the fingers of one hand ghosting over her tattoo. "A seer told me 'the marked one' would find me, and then showed me an image very much like this. My point is I'm already involved. And even if I wasn't, I'd be departing Lochstone with you." He exhaled. "I don't know what in Xerxes makes you think I'd leave you to face this alone."

Her lips started to curve into one of the smiles he loved. "Do you remember the other night, when I claimed to not adore you?" She kissed him when he nodded, quietly adding, "I lied."

"I know." He smirked. "So we're agreed that I'm coming with you?"

"Only if you bring more of those ash cakes."

"Done...you do _not_ drive a hard bargain." He pulled her close again, not wanting to let her go yet seeing as they may be unable to have another private moment for some time. "If I leave Hughes now, right after an attack, I assume that makes me a terrible person."

"It just might." Riza threw a light, playful punch at his stomach before breaking free and lifting her jacket from the chair on which it rested. "Shall we go interrogate another mercenary?"

"We shall." They set about arming themselves and then he held open the door for her, letting it swing shut behind him under its own weight.

"Do you mind if I handle the interrogation this time, Captain?"

"Don't care for _my_ methods, I see."

"I rather like them, actually...quite effective. I only think the merc might be more amenable to helping us if he can _walk_." He caught her smirk out of the corner of his eye.

"Harsh...but valid."

They were back in the bailey in minutes and easily found the mercenary gifted where he was shackled near one of the intact portions of the wall. He was guarded by four soldiers, one of whom kept a sword against his neck to discourage any use of his abilities. Riza strode up to him and pushed the weapon aside, replacing it with her own hand and shoving him back against the wall. "Did the Drachmans tell you who I am?"

"Not explicitly, but I worked it out, _your grace_." He was several inches taller then her, with dirty blond hair and a sharp jaw, and to his credit he kept the potential mocking in his tone to a minimum.

"Very well, then you know what I'm capable of...you have thirty seconds."

The man instantaneously raised his bound hands in a demonstration of surrender. "Look, I'm a mercenary for a reason, my lady. For the right price, I'll join any team."

Keeping her hand on his throat so the threat would remain, she asked, "Your name?"

"Jean Havoc of Aerugo, milady." To one side he spit blackened juice from the wad of tobacco lodged between his cheek and gums.

"Consider your loyalty purchased, Master Havoc." She waved toward the crater near which they stood. "Fix the damage you caused, _all_ of it, and you'll be well compensated."

The mercenary dipped his head at his new employer. "Your grace."

Riza turned back toward him while the man was freed and to Captain Stevens, who had arrived on his left, said, "Inform Master Havoc of our travel plans. He'll need to leave with us if he wants to be paid."

"Yes, my lady. They're lighting the pyres soon...I thought you'd like to know. And I could only persuade Lord Grumman to rest for about an hour."

"Thank you, Fredrik. Make sure you and Maria get some rest as well."

Roy started toward the pyres and, when she fell into step beside him, he caught her still worried look out of the corner of his eye, but he knew this time its cause was the imminent funeral for his mother. "I'm alright."

She let the reassurance stand as it was, unconvincing and perhaps a little perfunctory, and soon they reached the series of hastily stacked log towers. Unfortunately, they had far fewer than the number of fallen, which was why a discouraging number of graves were being dug beyond the walls. The proceedings also lacked the normal ceremony of a funeral but, as was usual in such situations, they simply did not have sufficient time. There were still repairs to be completed, wounded to be helped, and preparations to be made for their departure, which reminded him that he still needed to speak with Hughes on that score.

For the moment, however, he stepped up to his mother's side and took her chilled hand, trying to find a way to say goodbye. Inevitably, he contemplated her actions of that past week within the context of the knowledge morning had brought with it. Just yesterday he'd found it impossible to comprehend her reasons for handing Riza to her enemies, but he now knew she'd been protecting him, that everything she'd done was with that motivation alone. Lenora had guarded the secret of his identity and, in making her deal with Tucker, had attempted to forever free her son from all it meant to be Ryurik's heir. With the last of the Hawkeye family gone, Anton would think himself wholly untouchable, and his pursuit of all things guardian and seal-related would have died along with his fear of being challenged.

He appreciated the lengths to which his mother was willing to go to protect him, truly, but in doing so she not only concealed parts of his life, she subverted his right to make a choice. He did not know what the future held, had not decided whether it was better to reveal himself to the world or continue a life of anonymity, but it was _his_ decision. And for better or worse, he found it difficult to forgive her for putting the woman he loved in mortal danger, not to mention his friends, his home, and his livelihood.

Still, she was his mother, the woman that had raised and cared for him, made innumerable sacrifices for him, and she deserved more than conflicting emotions as a farewell. Endeavoring to make his thoughts of her more pleasant, he recalled the way she'd comfort him after the nightmares of his youth. No matter the hour, she always made a pot of chamomile tea and then read to him until his fears were allayed and he fell asleep again. The memory made him smile.

He released her hand and, in what he now remembered was an especially Drachman funerary ritual, took out a knife and sliced her palm, letting a little blood coat the edge of the blade. Accepting the torch from Maes, whose expression was sympathetic, he circumnavigated the pyre and started little fires all along the base, briefly thinking that with his gift he could have the thing engulfed far more quickly. Once the blaze had grown substantially he held the blade of the small weapon in the flames, scorching the blood, an act which was meant to symbolize that the deceased were never forgotten, that in a way he'd always carry his mother with him.

When he returned to Riza's side she was eyeing him with interest since, as he'd expected, she had not missed the employment of such a ritual. True to her word, however, she made no inquiries and they continued to pay their respects as his mother's remains burned. Soon the mourning continued, with Grumman presiding over Lady Althea's pyre, and the older gentleman performed a small Cretan rite involving wine and the dirt from the field of battle on which the deceased fell. After that came Lady Roberta Morrow, the first of too many others, and he could only hope that future events would take an upward turn.

* * *

Just over three days after the siege on Lochstone ended, Riza rode through the forest near Dunairne, thoroughly dreading what she was about to find. The columns of smoke still marring the sky ahead were daunting and yet, quite incongruously, the afternoon sun was bright and warm, which she also found a bit misleading considering the winter months were drawing closer. After another appraisal of the smoke she threw an apprehensive glance at Roy, who had positioned himself to her right, and he responded with a reassuring but minute curve of the lips. To her left her grandfather was visible, staring grimly ahead, and behind them trailed the remainder of their party which, in her opinion, was much larger than necessary.

Gracia's presence had been mandatory, of course, which naturally meant that Lord Hughes insisted on joining them. That in turn forced Riza to order Lord Hakuro, an extremely skilled guardian, to stay on at Lochstone to oversee the unfinished repairs until its lord's return. Stevens and Maria would have accompanied her anyway, Silaris was her personal guardian, the mercenary Havoc wanted his money, and the soldiers Kain Fuery and Heymans Breda had come at Hughes' request. All that meant their progress was slower than she'd like, and she had the thought that they might has well have traveled with Lord Hughes' entire damn household, but she knew that was simply her ill-humor talking.

Her impatient thoughts were soon forgotten when she crested the hill near Dunairne Castle and pulled on Maximillien's reigns, unable to keep her jaw from falling open completely. A large portion of the outer curtain wall had been destroyed, chunks of stone in varying sizes strewn chaotically about, and the debris field stretched from the eastern portion of the bailey out onto the surrounding grounds. The charred remnants of the barracks and other buildings smoldered, several heaps of burnt lumber serving as the only reminder that people had lived and worked there.

Her chest tightened and her eyes burned and she spurred her mount forward, heard the others following behind. She could only stare at the near ruins in front of her, the still smoking wreck of her former life, and the life she hoped to have. With a little encouragement the horse vaulted over a short stack of rubble, the shod hooves trampling bits of blackened wood before clattering over the stone-paved section of the yard. Still eyeing the remnants of buildings surrounding the keep she jumped to the ground, resisting the temptation to rip her bow and quiver from the tack and rush impulsively into the damaged keep.

"Cretan gods," Roy muttered, drawing up on her left and dismounting as he surveyed the destruction. His eyes scanned the yard and he added, "No arrow shafts...no blood...no bodies...it's as if there wasn't a _fight_."

She nodded. "I noticed. He must have sent everyone away."

His only response was to say, "Fuery."

The tracker wound through the rest of the group and stooped, setting his hand flat against the dirt. "I feel no evidence of any gifted tampering within the keep...and I feel no living presence in the vicinity. Aside from ours, of course."

"Neither do I," Silaris said, the usual hint of mild disdain in her voice which, Riza had discovered, was simply her way. In response to a few sidelong glances sent her way by other members of the party, clearly wondering why she'd felt to need to corroborate the tracker's conclusion, she added, "Oh... _do_ forgive me for trusting myself more than the youngster."

"Morrow, Havoc, Stevens...stay out here and keep an eye on things," Riza ordered, freeing her bow and slinging her quiver over her shoulder, because despite the assurances of a certain seer and tracker she felt the need to arm herself to walk into the battered shell of her home.

"Breda, Fuery...stay with them," Hughes told his men, drawing his sword and pulling his new wife to the side to have a word with her, undoubtedly to try to convince her to stay outside.

Nocking an arrow Riza made her way toward the main entrance, where one massive door lay off to the side while the other hung diagonally on its few intact hinges. Out of the corner of an eye she saw Roy catch up with her, and heard a few others do the same behind her as she climbed the steps, striding slowly through the opening into a hall that felt empty and wrong. Hollow echoes of the group's footfalls reverberated off the walls of what was once a bustling keep, and with each step she wondered where everyone went. Just as there had been no evidence of conflict outside, aside from the general destruction, the carnage she'd resigned herself to expect was absent inside as well. No bodies littered the corridors, no blood spatters stained the walls, and no weapons lay forgotten on the floor. It was somehow both a relief and a point of concern.

She paced up a short staircase, listening for any sounds within the maze of halls out of instinct and habit, her bow slowly lowering when she stepped through the kicked-in door of her father's library. Though there was no hint of an altercation, she tensed and forced herself to take calm breaths as she continued along the corridor, her weapon now held at her side, nearly forgotten. Riza rapidly scanned the seemingly intact great hall when she passed, and took another couple steps forward before abruptly stopping.

Her father knelt at the fireplace directly across from the door, his hands tied behind his back and the hilt of his own sword protruding from his mouth. His back had been positioned to lean against the raised brick hearth behind him, and she strongly suspected he was lashed to the wrought iron racks on either side of the firebox used for roasting whole birds or large cuts of meat. In short, her father's body had been staged, so that she would find him in that precise pose in the event she survived the attack on Lochstone.

"No..." She paced dazedly toward him, absentmindedly setting her bow and arrow on a table.

Somewhere nearby her grandfather cursed, " _Faex_."

Tears threatened to traverse her cheeks, and her chest felt agonizingly tight, her next exhalation almost approaching a sob. She shook her head, a useless effort to deny the truth from which she could not tear her gaze, and then a hand was at her back and Roy was guiding her into his arms. She wiped at her eyes and tried to pull away, with the vague motivation of saving face, reclaiming her calm, but he held her more tightly and softly said, "It's alright...it's just us and Grumman. I sent the others back down the hall." Resting her forehead on his chest, she finally let herself feel the grief that had started the night Mrs. Marston had surprised her in the forest.

Riza backed away after a short while, drying her cheeks with the handkerchief he offered her and vainly dabbing at the splotches her tears had left on his shirt. "I knew he was gone but seeing him like that...made it horribly real." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"I need Maria...we shouldn't stay here long." He nodded and left to find the others, at which point she caught her grandfather's gaze and hugged him as well. When they separated she stepped up to her father's corpse, carefully pulling out the sword and laying it on the hearth. Mustang soon returned with Maria and Hughes in tow, and together they cut the bonds keeping him upright, laying him out at one end of the long dining table. With a look to the seer, she asked, "Ready?"

"What do you intend to do?" Roy queried, eyes roving between her, the body, and Maria.

"We're going to try to read his final memories," the seer replied, moving to Berthold's side to close his lifeless eyes.

"That's impossible," Hughes replied in disbelief. "I hate to point out the obvious, but he's dead."

"My gift can't bring him back to life but, in theory, I should be able to wake up his brain enough to see his last moments."

"In theory," Mustang repeated. "So you've never tried this."

"I'm told it's been done before." Riza tugged out the chair at the end of the table and positioned herself at her father's head, responding to her grandfather with a nod when he briefly touched her shoulder to signal that he was leaving the room. Over the year's they had made many plans for disastrous situations such as this, so she knew he was off to collect various weapons, supplies, and other items they might need, but she was also aware he likely needed a few minutes to himself after finding the battered body of his deceased son-in-law in the great hall where he once enjoyed pleasant dinners. "Maria."

The seer placed a thumb beneath her right eye and settled two fingers at her temple, repeating the gesture with her other hand around her father's left eye. After catching the woman's gaze again, she put the tips of a few fingers at her father' s right temple and began to push a gentle current of her own life force into his brain, trying to visualize the rivuleta's progress as she encouraged it to activate already defunct pathways through dead tissue.

At Maria's direction she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a jolt and suddenly seeing the dining room in which she sat. Only now the table was set for dinner, candles glowed in sconces and candelabras, and fires crackled in the room's two great hearths. Everything was just right for a meal, but something felt incredibly, inexplicably wrong. Not a breath later two men dragged her father into the room, preceded by none other than General Tucker. Her gut contracted and she would have reached for a weapon automatically if this weren't a vision.

"I've finally found you, leech," Tucker calmly said, lips curved into a satisfied sneer. "Your family certainly didn't make it easy…changing their surname, establishing themselves in another country. But with time, a little patience, and a well-sharpened sword anything can be accomplished."

"That's a cheerful thought...it'd make a lovely needlepoint." Her father coughed when the Drachman general backhanded him for the comment, spitting blood on the floor, and then smiled. "You look like shit, Tucker. What happened to your face?"

"You know very well, scum. I can finally thank you for your handiwork, and with any luck return the favor." The general shook his head in amusement, running a finger along the scar that trekked down his neck and disappeared into his shirt. "And to think...all along _you_ were the fucking guardian we've been looking for..." He chuckled. "His Majesty justly punished me for failing to find you then. Now I'll be welcomed back a goddamn hero."

"I'd congratulate you but, unless I'm mistaken, you still don't have what Anton really wants."

Tucker backhanded him again. "You are not _worthy_ of speaking his name!" The Drachman crouched. "Where is the seal?"

"You could torture me endlessly and I'd never tell you."

"That I do not doubt. Legend has it your family was always loyal, almost to a fault. As the stories go it's why they were targeted first." The man pulled a knife, using the edge to pry something from beneath his fingernail. "I hear you have a daughter…surely you'll tell me to save her."

Berthold snorted derisively. "I'm no fool...you'd kill her anyway." Her father looked up at his captor in determination. "Do to me what you will, but leave my daughter out of it. She knows nothing anyway."

Tucker's laugh was more like a growl. "Now it is I that must inform you that I'm no imbecile. But fear not...when I find her, I'll be gentle."

She saw amusement flit across her father' s face, and he started to laugh but it turned into a cough. "I pity the man that attacks her." He took a deep, difficult breath and added, "Anton will die...I'm not the last."

The Drachman let out another growling chuckled. "You pitiful man. You've spent your life...your family has spent generations...devoted to a pathetic _dream_."

"There are worse crimes than optimism."

The other man shook his head. "Give me the seal and you'll be rewarded."

"Tell Anton to go fuck himself." There was the same defiance in his voice as in that of the prisoner she had encountered at the Drachman camp, only with her father with was somehow more powerful, more menacing.

Tucker watched him for several seconds. "You guardians honor your oaths and that, at least, must be respected." With that another soldier took a knife and ran it through her father's throat, blood gushing in torrents from his neck and mouth.

Riza inhaled sharply, eyes wide, and was abruptly once more in the present, jumping in her seat like one startled while her hand fell to rest on the tabletop. "It was just Tucker and Hearn...Fu was absent." Just then she heard her grandfather's voice say her name and, turning to face where he stood in the doorway, she replied, "He revealed nothing."

"I expected nothing less."

"Nor did I, but we still have no way of knowing exactly what information they have. We'll have to send messages to the other guardians." Her grandfather nodded, disappearing to continue his solitary hunt for supplies, and standing she added, "Maria….fetch Stevens and help him prepare a pyre for Lord Hawkeye. Lord Hughes, I ask that you kindly wait outside. Captain Mustang, please follow me."

She took possession of her father's sword, cleaning it as she left the room in the direction of the library, and when Roy materialized beside her he said, voice playful, "You asked for me, my lady."

"I did, Captain," she said with a smile, which only threatened to fade slightly when she met his eye. Thoughts about their conversation back at Lochstone continued to nag at her, and his request to keep his memories to himself for the time being once again brought to mind the realization that he'd likely only do so to protect her somehow. The idea worried her no less than it had before, when his recollections were still jumbled and unorganized, but having kept her own secrets she understood, and she'd wait patiently. However, she was committed to her decision to be open with him, she was done hiding, and for that reason she told him, "The seal was split into three pieces which were hidden away to keep them safe. The locations range from Aerugo to Drachma, and..."

"And since you can't be sure what they know, you'll have to collect them," he finished, following her into the library where she obtained her father's scabbard and led him back into the passageway.

She nodded, taking the stairs up to the third floor of the keep. "How do you feel about attending a gala with me?"

"I'd be honored to escort you, of course, my lady. Might that dress of yours end up decorating my bedroom floor again?"

"I like your chances, Captain." She smirked, following the curving corridor and pausing at a door leading to a little-used suite of rooms.

"I wouldn't want to divert attention from your treasure hunt, though."

She handed him the sword and fit a key into the lock. "There's no map, and I know the precise location of each piece...so it's more like a treasure _retrieval_."

"That's much less fun." When she opened the door that had not been opened for decades and began to make her way through dusty pieces of furniture, he asked, "Where _are_ we?"

"My mother's quarters," she replied, taking the wrought iron stand from beside the fireplace and approaching the window nearest the bed. Lofting the stand, she slammed the iron base into the corner of one of the stones at the foot of the wall beneath a window, and multiple slim cracks formed when she did. With another hit those cracks grew and she knelt to begin pulling out the chunks of stone that had concealed a secret compartment.

"They haven't touched the place...apparently they didn't think anything important would be hidden here."

"I do enjoy when Drachmans are idiots." Lifting out a small box made of cherry wood, she opened it to reveal a marble orb the approximate size of a small goose egg and added, " _This_ is the first piece of the seal...it was entrusted to my mother. I'm not sure my father even knew where she hid it."

"Most royal seals are gold...or some other precious metal." Roy took it, examining it with an expression that seemed equally reverent and hesitant, and the look confused her.

"Marble was unique to the Drachman royal family...their gift allowed them to work with stone in ways others couldn't." Moving to the wardrobe she removed a silk scarf, the color similar to the green of her mother's eyes. "The stories all say the entire royal family was killed...their bodies displayed on the steps of Denliath for the world to see...so it can never be reformed exactly as it was."

"I imagine that, for Drachman citizens, the freedom it represents isn't dependent upon its shape."

"True."

Handing it back, he asked, "Where are the other pieces?"

"Well, he doesn't know it, but one piece is at the Amestrian king's summer estate." She wrapped the marble in silk, planning to secret it away in a pack on her horse once they were outside again.

"The gala you mentioned?"

"Yes. Lady Catherine Armstrong married the Crown Prince of Amestris and she's now pregnant...there's to be a lavish celebration next week. The Armstrong family will invite me."

"Not to denounce your best laid plans, but I fear that's a bit too high-society for a captain-at-arms such as myself. Will they even let me in?"

"Of course. I'm related to the King of Creta, remember. They wouldn't dare refuse admittance to my fiancè."

"Calling me your _betrothed_ now, are you?" he asked, stepping forward to slip his arms around her waist. "I do enjoy the sound of that."

"You did agree, if indirectly."

"And I meant it, but..." He gave a small, hesitant sigh. "...with everything happening, I didn't want to assume. I can't expect you to tie yourself to me when you're missing part of the story."

"A few memories don't scare me, Roy. Whatever it is that's bothering you...whenever you're ready to tell me...we'll deal with it together." The hint of an emotion passed over his face, something like guilt or fear, or both, and she found that reaction alarming. Rather than draw attention to it, she lightly asked, "Do I need to find another escort, Captain?"

"Of course not, my lady," he chuckled, putting a slight, playful emphasis on the honorific at the end. "I'd be happy to accompany you."

She smiled and led him out of the room, expression sobering when she recalled she was essentially heading to her father's funeral. That thought reminded her of Roy's employment of a quintessentially Drachman rite during his own mother's ceremony, and her brow drew downward thoughtfully. It made her contemplate whether he could be a member of yet another guardian family, one that had clearly tried to keep out of the limelight. However, she'd never heard of a non-gifted guardian and, to her knowledge, seers could not quell gifts like they did memories. In consequence, her mind returned to the same worried spinning that had occupied it for much of the trip back to Dunairne, and her father's pending pyre did nothing to ameliorate that.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day!

 **AN2:** Here is a little list of original characters along with a short description of who they are: Lord Cavan Traherne - Riza's great-uncle, Captain Fredrik Stevens - works for Riza and her father, Lady Althea Grumman - Riza's maternal grandmother, Lady Lenora Mustang - Roy's mother, General Hearn - an acquaintance of Lady Silaris Morrow, Lady Roberta Morrow - friend of Lenora/relative of Hughes, Maximilien - Riza's horse, Mercedes - Roy's horse, King Anton - the King of Drachma. (If I missed any, let me know.)


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